I've ran out of ideas,
my brain has froze,
and my hands cant flow.
This poem i cant finish,
I bit off more than i could chew.

Is it wrong to be different?
or do i have to be the same?
Do i have to wear pretty dresses,
put make up on my face?
Do i have to sit still and smile,
wait until i marry a rich man?
why cant i be myself?
And be free like the birds?
Let me ask you once again,
Whats wrong with being me?

Lighting up someones day,
does not need words,
it doesnt need action,
nor your thoughts,
All you have to do,
is just listen.

Abandoned by my creator,
the silent creeps.
Im scared.
what should i do?
This place is in ruins.
My old play house,
is filled with cobwebs.

I can still hear,
the laughs of those i used to be with.
my once pretty smile,
is cracked into a cry.
im just a doll,
Attached to strings.

But now,
im nothing but an old doll.

Can you see me?
im just a kid,
untrusted.
my reflection is staring back,
but what i see,
is not me.

All i do is roam in halls,
Like a Ghost without a mouth.
No matter how much i reach out,
im just a handprint, unseen

"i like poetry,"
so?
"im not good in art,"
so?
"im not perfect,"
so?
"im not pretty,"
so?
i like poetry too,
so?
not everyone can draw,
so?
nobody's perfect,
so?
thats just what you think,
so?

little ms. perfect,
has a little secret.
She's a big fat liar,
and you can't trust her words.
She cries,
yet she lies.
So whats the point in her?
Her words are like honey,
but be careful,
They sting!
she'll drain you till you drop,
so leave while you can!