Ideas.
We can keep them, we can share them...
I wanna share myself with the world, with the universe and the unknown behind it; I wanna share my ideas.
What are we?
We are all ideas.
When another person describes us, they delineate the concept that they have of us.
We are not ideas.
We can analyze them.
What are we?
We are not brains, we are not our bodies.
We can refer to them.
Are we the unknown within this shell that we call bodies? Are we further away from that?
I don't know; I wish to know.
Am I ever going to find out? Will I die in ignorance? They say ignorance is bliss. Then why do I feel discomforted? Why do I wanna know? Why do we , beings we do not understand, want to know the deep and meaningful answer to this persistent doubt? Or is it just me?
Me; Myself.
The idea that I have of myself.
I am not an idea.
What am I?

I need feminism
because men are more upset about people saying "all men"
than they are about the fact that 1 in 4 women will be ***** in their lifetime.

Not harassed, not catcalled,
*****
And that is not okay.

I need feminism because out of the four women
I speak to everyday
two of them have been *****
and all four of them can't walk to their car
without sticking their keys through their fingers to
feel the slightest inclination of safety.

I need feminism
because the other day in my math class
a student said "She was asking for it"
and the teacher agreed.  

I need feminism
because when my father wasn't drinking
he was telling me to be a man.

I need feminism
because the way my father taught me to treat women
was to get them drunk.
It's not his fault,
he knew no better.

I need feminism
because my father knew no better.

I hurt
I hurt but I have no reason to hurt
Other than I am human
I tell myself “others have had it worse than you”
“You don’t deserve to feel this way”
“How dare you”
The guilt I ****** upon myself settles into my skin like an infected wound
Digging itself deeper and deeper every day

I no longer allow myself to feel the things I do
Because if I do, I am a fraud
I am selfish
I am undermining those who suffer greater pain than I
Those who have lost the ones they love most
Those who’ve had their hearts broken by supposed soul mates

Yet, in my heart I know my emotions are pure
I hurt because I am human
And simply being human permits me to feel what I may
My tears are justified
Along with my laughter and beams of joy
I am allowed to feel

I am not depressed because I am human
I am human because I am depressed
I am human because I cry
I am human because I care
I am human because I feel guilt
And pain
And compassion
And strength
And fear

Give yourself the right to be human
There is no need for any other label
You deserve to be cared for
Not only by others
But by yourself
Set the guilt free
And you will set yourself free

She looks at life with longing eyes
It holds her, flies
For like a dove
Her speech preaches peace
And love

I'm a poem in the back of your notebook,
the one that slipped your mind.
You began writing it with the fiercest of intentions,
but all forgotten once something else caught your attention.
It happens with all things in time.

you told me you liked blondes,
so i bleached my hair.

you said you preferred coffee to tea,
so i made espresso every morning.

and you told me you loved me,
but then you found a girl with dark hair,
who actually liked coffee
and didn't love you back.

so you boxed up my heart,
and mailed it to me with no return address,
because you told me i had changed.

and i went back to brunette,
and drank my chamomile with two sugars,
and never opened that box again.

He was a little child
Who loved chocolates
His dreams were
To be among the 'greats'

He loved his mom
And other family members
His birthday was just celebrated
With the family he remembers

Went to his school happily
To learn
Life's lessons
And be good in turn
But such was goodness
Who would know
His dark chocolate love
Would bury his life
In a brutal snow.

A bus conductor
Who had on him
Dark deep eyes all day
Just like an eagle
Who waits for his prey.
He was 'chocolate' uncle
To this lil one
So that day
He had some dark fun
Called him to the washroom
Tempting him
To his love chocolates
Smiling he went
Unknown that
His life would be
In a shambles

Out came the knife
Then you know
Severed was his throat
Left we're his eyeballs
Horrifyingly slow
Before this
Did he see
Some
Dark fun
If the uncle
As he played
With his childhood
And right through his pants.
But know
Won't be seen
His happy face
Brimming with joy
And dream's play
Oh society
Do you grow
So grey
With neglect
With ***** minds?
This is what I see
And wish to so
For we don't know
This li'l soul
Would be born again
Or no....

i used to dream in black and white,
grays blending together the scenes that
spin spin spin
until i can't differentiate black from white.
i dreamt about shriveling flowers and endless hallways
and never being able to scream;
and then i met you.
suddenly i was dreaming in color,
a luxury i thought would never come to fruition,
flowers popping and life breathed back into trees.
i never knew how beautiful it was to have someone hold you at 3am,
to kiss your bruises and tell you your scars are angelic
even though the way you acquired them isn't.
i never knew how beautiful it was
to dream in color.