There is pressure in society
That judges how your looks should be
And when I hear a girl proclaim "I'm fat!"
As though there was something wrong with that,
Such thoughts, I tell you, just won't do
When the opposite is clearly true
Because with big girls there is more to love,
And they won't break with a playful shove.
And although I'm not one for body shaming,
And don't wish to sound like I'm complaining,
Thin girls simply lack the cellulite
To keep somebody warm at night,
Their bones protrude in awkward places
And they have gaunt, unhealthy faces
They regularly seem in a foul mood
(Which is probably caused caused by lack of food),
And you can't get anything to eat
Without them scowling at the treat,
That you, yourself, have chose to order,
While they dine on salad and water,
Until they scream "I've had enough!
You have no idea how tough
It is to keep this slender figure
And stop myself from getting bigger!"
As if it was somehow your fault
That they won't eat sugar or salt,
Or that they'll spend 3 hours at the gym
As a compromise for staying thin.
So while I'd love a girl however she looks
(As long as we like similar books,
And can talk for hours at a time,
Or not at all and still be fine)
There's very few (indeed, if any!
Although their numbers may be many),
Skinny girls I've ever met
That a big one hasn't beaten yet!
If you must lose weight I do implore
You know it's yourself you do it for
And while I must concede it doesn't matter,
To most if you're thinner or fatter,
No songwriter, I'll think you'll find
Wrote a song about a small behind
No artists brush strokes ever found
Joy in painting girls that were not round
And the best words found in poetry
Are about big girls it's plain to see
Like voluptuous, buxom, and well-rounded
With thin girls how would they have sounded?
Although I must- again- make haste to add
That no truly self-respecting lad
Would ever dream of judging you
By how you look, not what you do,
So if shedding pounds makes you feel great
Then go ahead and lose some weight,
But ignore what shallow fools may say,
As they'll just keep judging anyway,
Because the best people, you'll always find,
Will love you for what's in your mind.

You are a piece of art
in the simplest kind of ways

Even brush strokes
Across a blank canvas

Dark shades blended
To hide the imperfections on your soul

Warm tones used
To bring out the smallest fragments of light

With a matte finish
Brought together the best parts of each other

You are a piece of art
In the simplest kind of ways

The House I Grew Up In Is
Where my sisters first learned to walk
Where we had birthday parties and tickle fights
Where I climbed every tree in our yard
Where I learned how to ride and love a horse
Where things were good for the first few months

The House I Grew Up In Is
Where I developed Depression, Anxiety, and PTSD
Where my mother would go out to our car and cry hoping that I wouldn't see her
Where screaming matches were a daily occurrence
Where the phrase "Grab your sisters go to your room and barricade the door" was used more than twice a week
Where my step father cut down my favorite tree while I stood and cried as I watched it go down
Where my step father would pretend that he really cared, but only after he made her cry
Where my mother finally gave up on loving him
Where I had to yell "Don't touch her!" at the top of my lungs for him to let go of my mother
Where I found myself hate a man more than a seven year old ever should be able of

The House I Grew Up In Is
Where I learned that my mother was stronger than I ever thought
Where I found that I could handle things I shouldn't have had to
Where I learned that protecting my sisters will forever be my job

The House I Grew Up In Is Where I Realized That The World Is Never Fair Even To Those Who Deserve It Most

Lay there, let me stare a little longer, give me time to memorize the
       way you looked when you were still mine. Please don't walk out the door, don't get up just lay there. Let me study your face as you
       think of things out of my control.

Can you look at me when you smile, one more time before I go,
       before I close this door and never let it open again. Could you laugh at one more of my horrible jokes. The thought of never hearing
       your laugh again hurts more, never touching your lips again.

Blue.. You were blue the blinding shade of a mid summers sky

Cold.. You were the cold breeze that pushed its way threw my fingers and into my hair

Broken.. You are broken like a vase that crashed over,spilling water and flowers onto the hardwood floor of our love

You reached out
Into the night sky
Intending to hold
Starlight in your hands
But intentions don't
Always go as planned
You crushed those stars
With your bruised hands