Once a month
The Devil runs red,
cursing the women of the world
for being the one
who ate the forbidden fruit first.
It doesn't care if you're already having
a ****** day,
or if you're *****
in the heat of the moment
because you were the one
who ate the forbidden fruit first.
And yes, *** is a sin
even if it's with a long term lover,
because in the eyes of God
love is wrong if you aren't married
and all he cares about
is the fact that you were the one
who ate the forbidden fruit first.

She stopped by the Wishing Creek
and skipped a rock or two
before pulling out a penny for her thoughts.
She squeezed her eyes shut to the sun,
letting the coin fall from her hand like a lone raindrop.
The girl watched as the penny sank like a stone,
her eyes shining like stars at just the sight of that
polluted little puddle that ran between the trees.
She wished for the same thing every day,
but she wants it to come true, so she won't say.
What important things could a kid wish for anyway?
But I'll let you in on a little secret,
from one despaired dreamer to another.
It. Never. Came. True.

Valentine's Day is just a day that was made
to make the single people sad
or make the people in relationships realize
that the person they're with
couldn't care less about them.
I've been both people each and every year.
Prove me wrong.
Valentine's Day is just a day of despair.

On a scale of 1 to 10
they say I'm a 4,
below average.
If I got a 4 out of 10 on a test
I'd be failing with an F.
Yet when it comes to smarts,
I get straight A's in school,
perfect 10's on every paper.
But nobody ever sees the smart girl
all they see is the ugly 4.
I'll never be more than just a number...

A world without me
wouldn't be much different
than a world with me.
I'm invisible to everyone either way.
I could scream
in a room packed with people
and no one would even bother to look up.
I'm that tree that fell down
that nobody heard,
I don't even exist
as far as people are concerned.
All I want is to be acknowledged,
all it takes is one person
for me to be seen,
for me to matter.
But since I'm invisible,
I'm better off dead.

He comes to me in the night,
a black, looming mass
that merges with the shadows.
The headlights from the passing cars
through the window make him dance,
giving him movement
as if he were alive.
He tiptoed his way to my bed
to tower over me,
a pair of blood red eyes
shining through the shadows,
piercing through my soul,
reading my every thought.
And that's when the figure began to change,
the shadows twisting,
and turning,
and transforming.
First it was an arm, then a foot,
and then the figure
turned into something more familiar.
It had your devious grin,
your sinister voice,
your icy touch.
"I missed you," it said with a voice of silk.
It traced the edge of my face with a finger,
its eyes full of hunger, its heart full of evil.
"Did you miss me?"
In that moment I knew I was already dead.
I squeezed my eyes shut and screamed,
my heart slamming into my stomach.
I never woke up.

Sometimes I look outside
while it's raining rampant
and remember the simple times
when I used to believe
you could dodge the raindrops
and not get wet
if you were fast enough,
or how I used to race the raindrops
as they slid down the window
when I was stuck inside
for the day to play instead.
Those were the little things I worried about as a kid.
Now I worry about
what I'm gonna do after high school
when I'm thrown out into the world,
or if I'll be lucky enough to have someone
want to settle down and start a family with me,
or if I'll even make a big enough mark
for at least one person
to remember me by when I die.
And since I can't rewind my life,
I'm stuck staring out the window at the raindrops
to remember those memories
that can only be found from childhood.

Why isn't it fine for men to cry?
Why do men have to pull up their guards
the second emotions get brought up
for fear that society will judge them?

For once I just want to watch
a guy cry on my shoulder,
to hold him in my arms
and tell him how everything will be fine,
so he's not alone to face the storm
without so much as an umbrella
to keep him from catching cold.

But I know this will never happen,
because society has taught its men to be silent.

They say you don't know
what you're missing
until it's gone.
Except when I lost her,
it made me realize
that I have nothing.
I'm walking this road alone,
but the wind isn't at my back,
and when I reach my destination
there will be no one to meet me
in an embrace that makes
living this life worth it.

Thoughts are loud,
voice is quiet.
I'd do anything
to break this silence.
Except speak.
Because my thoughts get tangled,
my words sound mangled,
and then I end up sounding like an idiot
who can't even remember their own name.
And who is to blame?
My anxiety!!!

I know I've never been easy on the eyes.
You know you're ugly
when even your closest friends agree with you,
when your partners tell you
they only liked you for your personality,
when you try your hardest to look decent for once
and you don't even look
half as nice as a hottie on a sweatpants day.
And yet society has the audacity
to try and make girls like me feel pretty,
to say "Everyone is beautiful on the inside."
But if no one cares to look that far,
then does it really matter?
Do I really matter?

There is a heaven,
there is a hell.
Those are the places
where Jesus and Satan dwell.
God is the light, the way to the pearly gates,
The Father, our creator, of every good thing.
Then Jesus, his son, rose from the grave.
But while Jesus was pouring
his blood for us to be saved,
there came Satan, driving the Hell-bound train.
All aboard, as Satan deceives,
Come one come all the dope phenes and the theives!
"Oh, hold on," says the ******. "I've got more to bring."
"Here comes the men who cheated me.
Who lied to their wives and took off their rings."
But little did they know,
that the blood of Jesus could cover these sins.
That they didn't have to be riding the same train as me.
But since no one had told them how Satan deceives,
they're bound to burn in hell for eternity.

I have butterflies in my stomach,
but not because I'm nervous.
I swallowed them,
whole without chewing,
so not to mess up their fragile fairy wings
or have slimy bug guts sliding down my throat.
I thought if I had the butterflies
I could finally get rid of the sins inside
that reside within me as dark as night,
that there would finally be something about me
that was  
B  E  A  U  T  I   F  U  L.
But since I can't count on myself to change,
I keep butterflies inside me instead.

This place is a home
even though it doesn't have walls.
It's the place I can run to
when the demons won't
stop swirling in my head
like a tornado turning the wrong way.
It's the place I can shelter from the storm
even though there is no roof to keep me warm.
It's fate that I came across this place.
No matter how long I stray away
I always come back.
I'm drawn to this place like a moth to light,
like a phene to nicotine.
Hell, I'd probably be dead in a ditch today
if this place hadn't of let me stay
where I won't freeze to death,
where I don't have to fight the thoughts in my head,
where I am sure I'll be safe.
I'll always be thankful for this place,
because it's my one and only escape.

Valentine's day is looming closer
and I can't wait to be the only one
who doesn't get one of those boxes of chocolate
with all of the assorted flavors to pick through.
I'm looking forward to not be given
one of those teddy bears that are as big
as a seven-year-old going through a growth spurt.
I'm so thrilled to not receive
a cringey Hallmark card
with a "Roses are red" poem hiding inside.
Hell, I'm even happy
to not get a kiss from a lover
or a hug from a friend I've known since elementary.
Valentines day is dumb and disgusting
and the people who celebrate it are just suckers.
Feel free to pass me up Cupid!
I'm totally not jealous...

I've given up on boys.
I'm tired of being treated
like a toy that is only played
with once on Christmas day.

I'm tired of being seen
only for my body,
like I'm not a person
with a brain.
I'm not just something to be obtained

I'm the person
who lifts you up when you're down,
who will always want you around,
who will keep your secrets,
who isn't afraid to see you at your weakest.

I'm tired of being seen for the size of my parts.
Why can't you just see the size of my heart?

When I think of love I think
of my favorite movie playing on screen,
the song I can't get out of my head,
jumping up and down on my bed,
staring out the window riding shotgun,
strawberry ice cream under the sun,
climbing to the top of a tree,
building sandcastles by the sea,
hugs from my bestest friends,
of never wanting this feeling to end.

I welcome love
like I'd welcome an old friend,
with a hug and a warm embrace
upon seeing a familiar face.
But no matter how long I wait,
love never comes knocking at my door.
I wonder why I even try anymore...

My dreams every night
are always the same,
of me taking my back pack
and running away.
But it's not the running away that's weird.
It's that I'm always running from my fears,
from the same place,
from the same person.
I'm running away from you
whether its in the dead of night
or the middle of the day,
because I'll do anything
to keep the demons at bay.
But just for once
I wish I could be brave,
because running from your problems
makes you afraid,
at least that's what society says.
Sometimes I just wish
I could control my dreams,
so that whenever I feel like running away
I could turn around
and finally meet you face to face.

I want her skin on mine
I want to be inside her mind
I want her to crawl on me
I want to be inside her body

But I also want her brain
I want to have her last name
I want to be better together
I want to give her forever

I'm a lesbian,
and that's what guys
can't understand.
That to make a girl happy,
you don't need a man.

I can't constantly be funny
or have a witty reply.
Even the sun doesn't shine all the time.
So here's me without all the lies:
On the inside I'm shy,
expectations make me wanna die,
and sometimes I just want someone
to hold me while I cry.

People who write poetry
always wear their hearts on their sleeves.
They’re not afraid to feel
or look weak.
Poets aren't afraid to look for answers
in the binds of their mind,
or to sit and reflect over regrets
that most people try to forget.
Poets look at a sunset
and instead of seeing the opportunity for
a perfect picture
see the opportunity for
a perfect poem
that only they can write.
Yes poets are not only a different kind of people,
they're also a different kind of beautiful

I'm a drop in the ocean
a cloud in the sky
a flower in the field
a star in the night.
I'll never be special
no matter how hard I try.

You were an array of red flags
that challenged me at every twist and turn.
You declared war on the weak and wounded
who did nothing to you in return.

Eventually I threw up the white flag
and surrendered myself to you.
I succumbed myself to a prison
I didn't commit any crimes to get into.

I wish I had a hidden talent
that could bring a crowd to its knees.
I can barely balance
on both feet,
yet alone sing a solo
or play water polo.
I can't put others in a trance
when I dance,
or speak to a crowd,
or even make my parents proud.
No one will ever notice me
when all I can write is poetry.

This place is a home.
There's a dining room table
I can do my homework on
and a kitchen I can burn down.
This place is still a home
Even though there's nobody
to come home to after a long day's work
or someone to sit and have dinner with.

No, this place will never be a home.

In this house everybody
looks at their phones
instead of their family.
In this house the kids
take their dinner upstairs.
In this house the parents
fight in the middle of the night.
No, this place will never be a home.
This place is just a house
that I just so happen to live in.

With you I'll feel forever young
even when I'm old and gray,
running and jumping under the sun  
until the last of summer fades.
You'll always be the breath in my lungs
that turns the dark into the day.

Only I could see her halo
and its heather hinted glow
as she pushed a cart down aisle eight
and selected a sack of seedless grapes.

I bet her voice sounds smooth like a lullaby,
I bet she bears wings that take her to the sky.
But I'll never know if she really is an angel,
because girls like her don't dance with devils.

She cries herself to sleep every night,
shivering under the covers, trying to fight
the demons that haunt her dreams.
Yet to others everything isn't as it seems.
A smile stretched across her round face,
pushes everyone's suspicions away.

She wishes she could push away the demons
the same way she pushes away her feelings.

I want to be famous
so I can escape this deadbeat town,
full of people who buzz like bees
and spread rumors like honey.
I want to leave this town
so I can leave you behind
like last week's trash,
and be free from the chains
and teeth that gnash.
I want to leave you behind
so I can bloom bright and beautiful.
Because when you're around
the only thing I can do is drown.

Sunsets in every color,
is what I love about summer.
Everything you ever put me through,
is what I hate about you.

No one ever listened
to what she had to say,
but they liked the way
her words sounded on the page

I think I'm starting
to look like I'm starving.
My cheeks are sunken,
my stomach can't function,
and my ribs are poking.
My stomach's only soaking
up water cause I'm pounds away
from my goal weight.
But it'll never be enough.
I'll never be enough...

You never leave my dreams
no matter where you are
when I'm awake.

I always see you're smiling face
or your brow furrowed in anger
when my dreams are in danger
of turning into a nightmare.

But I'm never scared
because you're always there.

Even if it's just for a split second,
a wave my way
instantly puts my mind at ease
like a baby being rocked to sleep.

But now you're no longer there...

I'm aware that, in reality, you never cared,
but in my dreams, it seemed,
with each hug and hasty shout,
that I was all you ever cared about.

But now even that version of you is gone too,
slowly being replaced by her
even though many months felt like a blur.

I've realized she's the girl I love
and that I have nothing to be ashamed of,
but I still want to cry myself to sleep
even though you'll no longer be
in my dreams to comfort me...

I have loved and I have lost
I have laughed and I have cried
I have created and I have destroyed
I have lived... and now I must die

If you could read minds
you would find
a total stranger.
You'd want to change her,
change me.
Yes my thoughts would finally be free,
but you would never agree
with me.

I gave you my virginity,
gave you the deepest part of me.
And though I thought it made us closer,
you told me it was over.

I had been saving it for someone
who I thought I could love,
but that person wasn't you.
I was just too stupid to see the truth.

Someone who loves you
doesn't keep you around to be used,
someone who loves you
doesn't leave you alone and blue.

We weren't good together.
I now know that I deserve better.

It's always 1 step forward
and 3 steps back with you.
Right when I start to think
things are better between us,
you make me realize we were just
stuck in the honeymoon phase again.

"Do you think he's hot?"
a girl said to me, pushing her phone in my face.
The picture was of a guy standing in the mirror,
his shirt off and his hair tugged up with product,
the type of guy girls would worship.
"No," ​I said, because I didn't like lying to people.
"He's not my type."
The girl  just shrugged me off and turned to
show the picture to the girl next to me.
But little did that girl know
that while she was worshiping the guy on her screen,
I was busy worshiping the girl next to me.
I think I might be a little gay..

Love is evergreen.
No matter how much you
want it to wilt like a flower,
It will always find a way
to grow back again.

Headphones in my ears,

tuning the world to white noise,

turning off my senses.

All that matters is the beat,

pumping blood into my veins,

breathing a clear calm into

this instrument of a body.

Music. Is. Life

In fiction good always beats evil.
The good guy will always squash
the bad guy and justice will always prevail.
That's what fiction teaches your children.
That "what goes around comes around"
that "God will pay you double for your troubles"

But in reality that never happens.

In reality the bad guy squashes the good guy
and evil prevails
as it spreads from person to person.

And I don't know about you
but I wish I would have been
fed a spoonful of reality as a kid.

Then I would have at least been prepared
to deal with people like you
who waltz into my life,
all charming and smiles in the beginning,
but who will stab me in the back and toss me aside
the second I am no longer useful for their evil plans.

Sometimes I just wish
that fiction stories could apply to real life...

When you broke up with me
I would listen to Olivia Rodrigo on repeat.
I listened to her lyrics
as if they were the Bible
because she was the only one
who knew what I was feeling.
And though I've moved on,
hearing her songs still bring me to tears
because my heart still remembers
the way my voice rose
when I begged for you back
over and
over and
over again.
My heart still remembers the days
I was too afraid to face my friends
who wanted you dead
or the nights I spent crying
because you weren't there to comfort me.
And even though you've told yourself to forget
those times we tenderly shared,
I know my heart will always remember.
Because I will always play those same **** songs
over and
over and
over again.

My life is one of the China teacups
my grandmother collects,
pretty and perfectly in place
on the outside,
but on the inside
I'm just one push off the table from
s
   h
a
   t
t
   e
r
   i
n
   g

We got back together
but it doesn't feel like
we're starting over from the beginning.
Because as I breathed life into our future,
you just continued to dig up the past.