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  Apr 2020 No one
haysia
They said,
"The most beautiful art is
looking into someone's eyes
when they talk about the
things they love.
"
And I said,
"Or looking at someone you love.
Or maybe, just maybe,
by looking at the mirror
is the most beautiful art
anyone should appreciate."
Appreciation post for myself; for you and for everyone as well. You deserve more than the world has to offer.
No one Apr 2020
red



The first color in art.

The beginning of a rainbow;

the color pushed out of your heart.



The color of a husky voice and bare legs.

It fills the mind, washing away doubts

and slowly drips onto innocence like tears on the floor.

It is sweat off an old man's brow; it is calloused hands.



It is the taste of your addicting lips.

It is Maria Brink's voice; it is the way 'fruchtfleisch' sounds.
Red is bold, but soft. It speeds up heartbeats.

Red is the beginning of us.

But red is also seeping out a hollow chest.



orange



A difficult color to understand.

One that means organized in the most chaotic manner.

It is dogs barking and it is the sharp and rocky sand.



Orange is your fingers after staying in the water too long.

Orange is the feeling of relief when you've finished all your work.

It is the drunk man's slurred words,

and it is the toxic smell that exudes out of him.



It is a fresh washed blanket, or a pillow without a cover.

Orange is Gymnopédies, No. 1, Lent et douloureux

or Études, Op. 10: No. 12 in C Minor.
It is a storm washing away the chalk on your driveway.

Orange is watered-down coffee on a Saturday afternoon.

Orange is the start to something more.



yellow



Yellow is a tentative smile and long hair.

It is the sky at 3 in the morning.

It is a hot day in summer, biting into a pear.



Yellow is a young girl wishing on a shooting star.

It is a soft voice, but meaningful words.

Yellow are too-big shoes; it is stepping into a puddle of mud.

Yellow is not knowing where the other sock to the pair is.



Painting thick paint over a canvas,

and listening to the song Paris by 1975.

Yellow is a run-down house by the edge of a forest.

Yellow is alluring, yet revolting. 

Yellow is banana splits and ripe strawberries.



green



Green is communication, or the middle grounds.

It is a peaceful lake near a volcano.

Green is being alive, and is the way fire sounds.



Green is the smell of an old book; it is a book that takes too long to read.

It is the smell of nail polish remover.

Green is red solo cups and red stains over furniture.

It is the warm air before a storm.



Green is singing the note C while someone is singing G.

It is the tingle you feel after putting on mint chapstick.

It is feeling like your melting into someone's arms.

Green brings life, but it is the most deadly thing out there.



blue



Blue is the match burning out too sickly and burning you.

Blue is a cigarette and the ashes of an unsent love letter.

It is your side of the bed being cold; it is having the flu.



Blue are arms pulling me in deeper.

Blue is the smell of candles; it is watering your houseplants.

It is a soft cat's tail rubbing against your face.

It is the giggles and the claws dug into your skin after it gets scared.



Blue is Empty Bed by Cavetown playing on repeat. 

It is running your hand down hair and connecting the constellations on your back.

Blue is two girls sleeping over, but instead of sleeping they're whispering.

Blue is driving your car too fast; you feel free.

Blue is accepting it's okay to be alone. Blue is ****** knuckles.



purple



Purple is home.

Purple is the sound of a crowded street

Or the feeling of the ocean on your feet; the foam.



Purple is the sound your pencil makes on paper

It is the feeling of taking the first bite of a warm cookie.

Purple is the smell of roses; you are purple.

My purple is Hey Jude by the Beatles.



Purple is looking in a mirror; it is open drawers.

Purple is your feet brushing up against mine under the table.

It is your favorite song playing until you can't stand it.

Purple is the last color in a rainbow.

But purple is anything but the end.

Purple is the start to a brand new beginning.
No one Apr 2020
We grow up too fast.

From juice boxes to *****;

Dollhouses to drugs.



We stood up so quick.

From whispering to harsh words;

Hugs to harmful hands.



We fell down so hard.

Letters written in crayons

to these breakup texts.



We grow up too fast.
From pixy stixs to *******;

Candy to acid.
  Apr 2020 No one
Unpolished Ink
A room full of dark

    Hungry crows of worry peck at sleep

        Morpheus it seems is grounded
No one Apr 2020
It's sometimes hard to grasp

that people can't fight their inner battles.

Because some of us weren't aware we were in the middle of a war zone

and wanted to take a stroll, only to get a bullet in our chests.

Some of us need immediate medical attention,

but afraid we're being selfish to ask for help because there are so many others

who have similar wounds, or have it even worse.



It's sometimes hard to realize

that we need someone to stitch us up

so that we can walk another mile, until one is ten.

Because life is about falling, getting up, and walking farther.

But, some us need a new leg, because ours was cut off.

Some of us like playing with fire, some of us terrified.

But no matter what, all of us feel the burn - the heat.



It's sometimes hard to speak up

because we've been shown too many times we aren't normal.

So many of us are crying over the kitchen sink, ice cubes in hand.

Because that's the only way to get the impulse to fade.

It's hard to ask a simple request, because then it feels so much more real.

We don't want people to notice our fake smiles, or forced laughs.

And we're afraid to climb life's mountain,

because the more you go up, the harder your fall will be.



It's sometimes hard to recognize

that it's okay to be afraid or feel like it is the end of the world

But it's also important to know, it will be okay.

We all need swim past the sharks and riptides,

but it's also okay to have someone pull you out the water for a breath.

Maybe your mound is still bleeding, but it will heal.

Some of us are scared to breathe because we've seen what poisonous gas does.

So it's okay to ask for a gas mask, just make sure you pass it on.



It's sometimes hard to fathom

a time where you'll smile for you, instead of someone else.

Or to take the leap between trees, but you have to because the forest is burning down.

Some of us can't get to the finish line without a drink of water.

But we still have to keep running on the track.

Even if you have to lie to yourself at first.

But, if we want to be happy, we have to make sure

the happiness we seek is worth a decade of wars for.
I hope anyone reading this knows you have to get up.
But if you can't, that's okay.
I'm rooting for every single one of you.
I am cheering for your every step.
It's okay need a helping hand, but once they give you a little shove.
Thank them and continue.
It's okay to need to take a breath.
Breathe, look at the sky, and know someone is looking out for you.
And if you think no one is there for you
you're right.
Because I am No one (:
So this if you needed a sign to move forward, here it is.
No one Apr 2020
We've all heard of the story

a young boy and a young girl

falling in love in autumn.

The leaves falling as they twirl.



But we didn't hear the story

of the same boy who would go out every night

to the parties and pick on the boy he liked

because instead of admitting his fear, he'd rather pick a fight.



We've all heard the story

of the two girls who are best friends,

the two that never stop holding hands.

The two that always share their paper and pens.



We don't hear the story

of the two best friends who are in love, but afraid of that kind of thing

because they don't understand why they feel that way

so instead of talking about it, they have inside jokes and sing.



We've all heard the story

of the girl with too many friends and a big smile

The one who loved her body and was kind

The girl who always followed the latest trend and style.



We don't hear the story

of the boy who fights the battle of a mental disorder

The one that is filled with obsession, numbers; the one

that is too thin, but it's the only way to feel like his life is in order.



We've all heard the story

of the kid who was left out 

who was picked on for being a nerd

but who grew up to be successful, despite people's doubt.



We don't hear the story

of a young girl who got picked on one too many times

who was called a ****, an attention seeker. So she gave up,

but when she killed herself everyone blamed it on her "crimes."



We've all heard the story

of magical prom nights, and joyful graduation

and all the successful teenagers 

who after high school, had this revelation.



We don't hear the story

of the boy whose family can't afford college

the one who is stuck with 12 hour shifts everyday

who is called a *****-up, even though he longs for knowledge.
So make it known.
No one Apr 2020
I am going around in circles



It's too dark

everything is too tall;

all the same.



I am going in circles



People telling me I'm worth it

around, around, around

But I still deny it.



I am going in



sane; what a sought-after word

circles, circles, circles

I can't seem to walk in a straight line.



Am I in?



There's a tunnel of light

going, going, going

that I want to run into.



I am..



A bit dizzy; I feel sick

in, in, in

I want to get somewhere



I



Unable to move from these loops

am, am, am

I collapse to the ground, out of breath.
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