I miss the way it was always

despite

instead of

because.

I miss the way you tore me apart

and put me back together,

begging.

I miss the way you told me you loved me

after you screamed at me 

to just ******* die.

I miss the way you stroked my cheek

as I trembled in your arms

covered in bruises.

I miss the way your legs covered mine

because I was freezing

in 82 degree weather.

I miss the way you gave me your shirt

after, because you wanted me

to bathe in my own blood.

I miss the way you whispered my name

when you were drunk

and the way your lips felt on my neck

at midnight.

I miss the way you took every part of me

and crushed it into dust

and handed it back to me.

I miss your warmth 

and the way it felt so ******* good

on my body.

I miss the way your rough hands

fit perfectly in mine

and how when you thought I was asleep

you traced each crease in my hand.

I miss the way you demanded;

never asked.

I miss the way you yelled at me;

the way you whispered to me.

I miss the way you embarrassed me

in front of all of your friends

to get a **** reaction.

I miss the way you bit on my lips

until there was blood

and the way your mouth tasted like

coffee and cigarettes.

I miss the way you brushed my hair

out of the way as I sobbed

on your shoulder.

I miss the way you fell asleep on my lap

after a long day

and how you looked so young;

so peaceful.

I miss the way you touched me too harsh.

I miss the way you held me too gentle.

I miss the way you said goodbye

as you slammed my bedroom door

at three in the morning.

I miss the way I woke up in your bed

and you were already gone.

I miss the way you clenched your jaw

when you were frustrated.

I miss the way you sighed 

when you were annoyed.

I hate the way I miss you.

The way my body longs for your touch

and the way my lips hold your name.

The way I can't stop thinking of you

and the way it hurts so much

that I know you don't give me a second thought,

because.

But I also know

that if you ever did think of me

it would be

despite.

The curving branches echo in the caliginosity
Withered roses sit, unattended; forgotten.
My torrid lungs tie a knot with every ***** creating tortuosity
in my mind, making a path I can no longer follow.
Another year passed, and it seems it runs in our family;
started generations before me, yet I refuse to let it swallow.
But you’re making it so ******* hard
because another year passed and I’m sitting in the back of its throat
and if i’m being honest I don’t know if I can walk another yard,
or mile or foot or even another inch.
You’ve made it so hard to want to open my eyes
because my judgment is clouded and it seems everyone is wearing a mask.
It’s hard because every single person I’ve seen has left me here to die.
They locked me in this box and threw out all the keys.
I am so alone, and the parks are so empty
of all but the hollow, rotting trees.'

Each piece of crumbling stone like a billboard
flashing its blurred out cries. An idea of what is to come,
but we don't know how or when, and even if we did none of us could afford
another minute; another moment, no matter how hard we try.
We are sand on the beach, being washed away
with quick waves - sometimes even our own foundations too dry
to carry our weight, yet if we’re soaked we find it hard to shape ourselves
into something new; something we want to be.
I don’t want to drown in the deep end like you.
But I don’t want to lose oxygen in this shallow sea.
I am so afraid of change, because I can barely hold what little I have
How am I supposed to create something new?
Yet I’m terrified of being the same thing forever
because if you take a closer look, you can see right through.
And there are things I have done that I cannot begin to say
There are things I want because of something you gave.
I shiver on the dirt, not from the cold, but because you make my mind play
with every possibility of how I can escape.
I wish it were me, six feet under.
I wish it were me, singing with the stars. The shining lights draped
On the vile sky we call home.
The abandoned ground, empty
of all but the feel of the wind's hands as they roam.

My mother too afraid to come to the terms
that you left us with, with a glass bottle in hand.
She is the fire, and it is her oxygen - the only way she can burn.
She misses that passion like a flower misses her sun.
The liquid magma barely reaches the inside of her throat
and the anger and release fills her veins.
I've been there too, except it was lonely nights below another person.
I was too young to see you were in pain,
but you left me with a mother
who can barely pick herself up after ten pm - who could barely exist.
You left me with a longing for hurt.
You left me with a mind so scarred that I wanted the scars on my wrist;
a mind so damaged I was planning to get under the same dirt.
To me, it was okay to let someone **** me over one too many times.
You left me staring at the same gun that you once held.
Contemplating whether or not to do the very same crime.
Does it make me weak to not pull the trigger?
Ungrateful to not want to be awake?
Selfish to use your death as a way to keep pushing?
Because I am pushing so ******* hard and I am going to break.
I am a rope, and the hand, desperately trying to hold
onto something that cannot possibly hold this weight.
You left me huddled into my knees trying to get rid of the cold
feeling in my lungs that stopped me from breathing.
You left me with sirens blaring, four separate moments.
You left me doubting my own worth
because if your father can't stay with you, who can?
You left me alone in this awaiting grave we call Earth;
And no one stuck around to help or assist.
You left me in this place, empty 
of all but my own pitiful tears and clenched fist.

Yet I place my ******* flowers down on your grave
And I cry harder than last time
Because I can't be saved.
Because it’s been another year without you
and I’m still tucking my mom into her bed,
trying to put both of us back together like glue;
trying to keep all of our corners aligned.
So I fall into a dreamless sleep in this silent house, empty
of all but night’s rest seeping into two broken minds.

I've been feeling quite gray;

this feeling of needing to go away.

Waves of darkness floor over me

like blood on the floor, sinking towards the sea.

I feel stuck in loops

and it doesn't help being surrounded in groups

of people that don't even see me

why can't I be happy?

I've worked so ******* hard

to act like I've won with this hand of cards

but I just keep sinking; sinking into this endless void

of being at the top of the world to being destroyed.



I've been feeling quite black,

because maybe I lack

that certain trait that lets other's move on

instead of being stuck in this cycle of feeling disconnected and gone.

Some days I am fine, and the tides are high

And others it feels like my oceans are dry. Why?

Why can't I feel unless it's my blood on the floor?

Everyday tasks are starting to feel like a chore.

And I'm sitting her, basket in hand, watching pelicans soar

in the vast blue sky as I sit on the shore.

But I can't hear their salty calls

and I can't feel the way the ocean's sound make me fall.

And I can't touch the walls of a nearby cave

without wanting the ocean to be my own grave.



I've been feeling quite white.

And not the one where you life is full of light.

The one that is empty and static;

the one where dust builds up in the attic.

I can't feel when I cry, it's just tears running down

like a tsunami flooding an innocent town.

Except the town is known for the blood it sheds

and these voices sing in the night, do they want me dead?

It is a black and vile canvas covered in something pure

Maybe to mask; maybe to lure.

And all that it does is make people drown

With it's lovely songs filling up mind's around.

So like rain, I drip off this forgotten leaf

Or maybe I'm a liar and thief

Maybe all the colors I once had were stolen from an ocean's reef

So I sink into this sea of blood, hoping to find some relief.

Cherry juice drips down my chin;

sticky fingers graze against a cheek,

my hand will not stop shaking anymore.

Juice boxes are scattered around my room.

The sun plays on my twin sized mattress

that I can't seem to get out of.

I assume it's because I have two left feet;

or maybe I haven't been taught how to walk.

Melted crayons on my wall I tried painting over.

Six pairs of socks still don't keep me warm.

My diary remains full of colorful words.

Being devoid of color is replaced with

washable markers, non-toxic glue, and extra fine glitter.

The bubblegum in my mouth is melting.

I think I used too much glow in the dark glue,

because I can't pick them up or feel them,

despite seeing them right in front of me.

Having crying fits over a pack of goldfish

until I fall into deep slumber, drooling on my pillow.

I'm terrified of the dark; I cannot stop screaming,

But it's not the dark where you turn off the light, no.

It's the dark inside my own mind - the loneliness

and being stuck in my brain's room that keeps me up too long.

I can't sing or play with an instrument anymore

because my voice is too shaky and my hands,

my hands are covered in this cherry juice.

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.

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.

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.

We're creating poetry with our mouths

The words our tongues and the moisture

that flows with passion.

We're creating poetry with our bodies

The ink our desires and each fantasy

that runs through our minds.

We're creating poetry with our fingers

The sentences our necks and hair

that we desperately try to hold onto.

We're creating poetry with our eyes

The stanzas our breaks for breaths and 

the way you look in the moonlight.

The cup of coffee sits still on the table

the dark liquid boiling, bubbling

the steam suffocating; filling my lungs.

My hand around its neck;

my nose inhaling the toxicity.

my mouth falling from the sky;

drowning in the ocean.

Dark liquid surrounds my mind;

i have lost it.

My fingers grazing the magma,

an unfazed gaze on the wall

where the sun twirls.

Slowly sinking in the ground,

a late morning; early afternoon.

The cup of coffee sits still on the table

the light liquid freezing, static

the steam condensed; watered-down foam.

I long for my skin to purple and blue;

I want every inch of flesh to be cold.

Sometimes blood covers my arms, like a tattoo.

I'm unsure what I'm feeling these days,

It's anything but normal,

because I feel as light as feather.

I wish everything would just stop;

every single thought that invades my lonely mind left.

Right now it seems like my body just dropped.

But how do I pick myself from the ground,

when the silence is so ******* loud;

is what I'm hearing real, or is my brain just making its own sounds?

I find it hard to find satisfaction,

so I've been doing these things,

Just to cause a reaction.

Lately I haven't been able to tell if I'm awake,

but I find the less I show of myself,

the harder it is for me to break.

I lay on the cold floor trying to find sleep,

yet I stay up all night,

I tried to learn to swim, and now I'm far too deep.

why is it everyvtime i find something good

i just push it away and think of what if and what i could.

lately i've been trying to put my feet in the sand

and enjoy the salty breeze that comes from our land.

i left myself cold and left the bottles empty

shattered on the ground; no chance of remedy.

i don't know how people say they've traveled into the sea

because even the calmest waves can become a monstrosity.

i'm sitting here wondering how the day went so fast

was it the way the sun danced or the how i dwindled with the past

because everything good never even lasts

and so i'm writing you this letter, alas

i never meant to hurt you or make you feel used

I just didn't want to be the person that abused

i never meant to make you feel less wanted

but i took each of our seconds for granted.

because beauty is pain, and not just the looks.

what i mean is each memory does not stay in the books.

our happiness fades in an ever growing haze

One that's bitter, that dims, that grays.

and no matter how much we try to keep it in store

there's always that fog waiting at the door

If my love for you is a lie,

I am prepared to lie until the end of time

You ask for love but hate yourself

You anger when I try to help

You say you love me and I love you too,

Yet you call me a liar when I show you truth

An act of kindness you call a ruse,

yet you cannot quit yourself abuse



maybe

I should learn to love myself.

you were the morning's sun rising

with such passion and confidence,

but every night you would be undone

behind your lonely picket fence

I know what that feels like now

the feeling of everything getting taken

away your light, your love, your dreams under the plow

because now you don't dance you just sway

and throughout the air there is an shallow murmur

it fills the trees the ocean the wind

and at night you walk out of each day like it's the end

but instead of turning a page in your book

you're erasing your words and redoing their look

over and over and over again

the darkness chains you down, sure

but the light is what pulls you in

The wind is like

A velvety gloved finger tracing the sharpness of my chin.

It freezes lips shut, chills even teeth, and eats away at soft skin.

It is an earthworm burrowing into my throat, breathing life from within.

The wind is like

A spider's web, nearly invisible, yet strong as steel.

It catches stray objects viciously for its next meal.

It is the spider, swallowing it hole, trapping it and drowning out the squeals.

The ocean is like

damp hands around my waist, hugging me in deeper, about to close.

It fills lungs, separates hands, and drips off mauve fingers and toes.

It is a caterpillar making a cocoon, after days of violence it unfolds and slows.

The ocean is like

young children playing in their mind's palace

Despite tears, screams, and fights, the sea churns her own way, like Alice.

Through the glass she looks, even in the calmest folds one wave can turn it to malice.                                         

Forests are like

thumbs pressing on innocent skin; inhale the euphoric waves you find out of the norm.

It opens curious eyes, falls onto roofs, and guides the wind with uniform

It is two otters, protecting the waters, and holding hands during the storm.

Forests are like 

a swarm of bees, completing their tasks with haste.

the energy attracted by sweet smell and sugar taste.

But I warn you that orchids deceive; they have no benefits, but their smell laced.

My dear friend,

Together we explored verdant land;

We have sailed the seven seas.

Without you I would have never touched the soft sand;

I would have never kissed the welcoming breeze.



My dear friend,

Together we wrote an extravagant tale

And before the last drop of ink falls from my pen

I hope you know I searched for you between these pages with no avail.

I will whisper you stories in the night until I see you again.



My dear friend,

I have decided that instead of letting your leave

Fog my brain and destroy my hope,

I will smile because of the memories; I will not grieve.

I will embrace happiness and learn her ropes.



My dear friend,

There is a time when you realize that you have to let go.

A piece of my heart will always be with you,

but I have to let myself grow.

For now, we bid adieu.

You were the early sun,

You rose with passion and profound confidence; you had just begun.

You were the afternoon breeze,

You were and welcoming, like fingers through hair; you made everyone feel at ease.

You were the hurricane's rain,

You spat on the ground and listened to no one; the middle calm but with vain.

You were the tornado's thunder,

You were bold and illuminated everything around you; you lingered with a gaze of wonder.

You were the sunset's close,

You folded neatly into place; the last fallen petal on a rose.

You were the midnight's dance,

You were quiet but alluring; you swallowed minds with one glance.

You were the moon's smile,

You helped people move on, but you were stuck in denial.

Hollow frost bites the flesh,

pink and swollen.

it stings the air;

bodiless ice rots.

Porcelain blood drips

off my finger tips,

drowning my ideas 

in melancholy hail.

I reach into my chest,

pulling out my spine;

I fall helplessly

into the frozen ocean,

its soft foam coating my lungs.

Icicles follow my footsteps,

the clouds have frozen in place.

I watch myself suffocate,

licking my teeth dry;

my eyes unable to close.

All my life

I have been moved from house to house.

They have felt like home 

for a couple weeks.

But there's always that 

longing feeling that I don't belong.

All my life

I have been given materialistic items.

They brought me joy

for a couple of days.

But there's always that

realization that they can be replaced.

All my life

I have been given empathetic smiles.

Like somehow they

will make me feel better,

But there's always that

one look of pity that kills me.

All my life

I have been surrounded by harsh words.

They have reminded me of him

every single day,

But I have noticed that

they will never fill the void he made.

How does one love a bird

who is locked in a cage,

unable to do what it does best?

How do such lovely creatures

sing all day and night

despite seeing that their freedom

is just outside a window.

How do so many wings fly

through the cerulean sky

knowing one day

their wings will be unable to carry them?

All of our cards are on this rotting table

they are soaked in our blood

but we play them anyway.

A sick game,

you like to play.

A bad bet,

as you like to say.

My cards are turned right side up

everyone can see my hand

except me.

A misplaced trust,

I had given you.

A poor chance,

the cards I drew.

We play for the big prize,

you say it's fair chance

that you won the bet on me.



Yet we both know I did not know the rules of the game.

I spent hours gazing into your treasured sky.
I knew your planets
like the back of my hand.
I knew the life
of each joyous star.
I knew your cosmos
and your nebulae.
I studied the way
they orbited around your precious soul.
But one day, I could not see it anymore.
Somehow, everything you created was gone.
Each planet you molded
had melted away.
Each star you smiled at
faded to gray.
Each moon you whispered to
was wandering aimlessly at bay.
You told me that one of the stars had burned out
which created a hole.
One that was evil and wanted control.
And now it was searching for another galaxy to devour.
I didn't believe you at first,
but it turns out you were right.
It's just that this time, 
it took something far bigger
It took a whole universe; your mind.
And I was right next to you as you pulled the trigger.

Many of our nights together,
I would just nod and kiss your cheek.
Those nights,
I would look at the peaceful stars
and wish that you would see the beauty in things. 
I hoped that one day
you'd be able to see the world as I did:
An oversize canvas
with too many colors.
Yet somehow,
they fit perfectly.

Our universes collided.
At first, it seemed like we connected everything.
It seemed like our planets realigned for each other,
it looked like our stars coexisted.
To us, it felt like we were two puzzle pieces
that fit perfectly next to each other.
But, it turns out
You were meant for the other side of the board.
Or, maybe we weren't even in the same puzzle.
Nevertheless, our planets crashed into each other,
and war arose.

Maybe the universe
was telling me to
open my eyes and see.
Or maybe it was the universe
telling me to squeeze my eyes shut
and never open them.
Either way,
when you came into my life
I started rethinking everything I ever thought.
You were a serendipity;
You were my destruction.
You set my mind on fire
made it glow brighter than the sun
I was unaware that I would burn.

The day we met,
you were sitting under the stars
one hand propped against the warm grass
and the other with a lit cigarette.
I tried to discover myself
by figuring out every detail of you.
Instead, all I did was break myself more.
Because you cannot see the moon
with the sun
unless they are perfectly aligned.
And you, my dear,
were the sun in a different galaxy.

Love is someone kissing your forehead goodnight,
as your room is on fire.
But still falling into their sweet bliss.
Love is creating a trap,
and someone melting into it with ease.



Maybe I was foolish
for falling into your trap,
but to me, I was the sinister black sky
draped over our head;
you were the little fairy lights,
scattered around,
like paint on a canvas.
And I wanted nothing more 
than to reach into that pool of shimmering darkness
and stare at its mesmerizing contents
from the palms of my hands.


When your hands danced on mine
you sent waves through my veins.
They crashed onto rocks
and into swaying ships.
When your lips dissolved on mine
I saw centuries of maps
of your blue divine.
Your beauty was a siren;
my mind a ship's crew.

my soul is looking

for medical attention;

the hole keeps bleeding.

My mother once told me

you can't erase what you write in ink.

I'm afraid I did not think

when I instead wrote in my own blood and tears,

reciting my worst fears.

Yet all I did was sit and watch as they

refused to go away.



Somehow I could not get their faces out of my home.

So I called to you as I let them roam,

and you told me that if I just waited,

that the monsters I created

would eventually be filled with hatred.

They would surround my mind,

wait until I was blind,

then stab my glowing soul,

until there was nothing but a dark hole. 



I eventually killed them,

leaving no water and no air

until they were shriveled and frail.

They seemed unable to grow,

with the numbing snow.

It seems as though,

you never really wanted me,

and were just here for the show.

And once those monsters disappeared,

all signs of your existence cleared.

I sometimes wonder 

if I just made you up, or if somehow

when you dragged me out of my darkness I left you under.

Quietly my hand 

caresses the fire with joy;

I watch my hand burn.


My body drowns in

the ocean's gentle feathers;

emerged in slumber.


My hand reaches for

the stars, trying to grasp the

untouchable air.


Energy flows through 

your presence, travelling from

your very own core.

lets watch the sunrise

when the birds just start waking,

living through the colors of the sun's breaking.



lets fall asleep on the grass

with the wind in our hair,

and the flowers filling the air.



[lets love like we have forever

and live before we have never]

You must gaze into 

your pool of fears 

and dive.

If you fall into a well 

of corpses, blood, and bones

sew your carcasses together,

and climb the rotting ladder.

If you fall into a tiny box

with no light and no air

close your eyes and do not breathe

let your soul melt out peacefully.

If you fall into an ocean

and find sharks and no way up

make sure you feed the sharks your limbs

then command them to swim. 

If you're lucky, they will carry you to shore.

If you fall into a pit

of high mountains and clouds

jump off the cliff and reach towards the sky

put your head back and say your goodbyes.

If you fall into a room

with no one but yourself and the silence

scream at the top of your lungs

until someone cuts off your tongue.

If you fall into your own home

and see the one you love most

**** them before someone else does.

Hopefully by then end,

you'll swim out as more than a ghost. 

And you'll know what you need

to do to make the most.

There were galaxies in his eyes

where creatures sat, watching the destruction

There were roses melted in his lips

and their thorns grew on his tongue

There were stars scattered on his cheeks

So bright, that they blinded him

There were pearls in his teeth,

with blood dripping where he took a bite 

There was a song in his soul

but he sold it to the devil

hunger in me

was of a different breed.

she sat at the edge,

laughing maniacally.

with each breath that I took,

she stabbed my heart with her hook

and thrashed the organs around,

until i was bound.

at the night she'd come out;

kept me up;

fed my doubt.

she invaded my brain

and she called it a game

an obsession with numbers;

thoughts consumed about others.

she wanted my body, my mind;

control.

but i grabbed her by the reins,

and I told her no.

she didn't leave easily,

for she liked her home,

but eventually ceased

to a place i do not know.

i just hope that she didn't

get passed on from me

because everyone

deserves to be free.

free of her chains;

of her ropes;

free from anything she considers hope

run like bitter breeze

flow in her waves of guidance

and let your wings rest

with a bed of water,

i gently blow clouds into the sea;

they wither in the foam,

as the wind carries away their screams.

i tilt my head back

and let the ocean's wings

carry me to shore.

[let death be a peace, in this world full of chaos]

When you hear the word cannibal

all you think of are immoral animals

Those who tear his own kin

apart, limb by limb.

Those who are consumed with the idea of gore

and once they have it, want more and more

When you witness the act of cannibalism

you think nothing of it, because it's an anomalism.

Because the more realistic example,

is us humans tearing each other into shambles

over vile words, wealth, and power.

Our foundations just run-down houses of lies we call a tower.

Then our leaders call these nocuous acts,

things that help our nation stay intact. 

Our society is filled with immoral obsession,

hidden by smiles and good looks called deception.

silk strewn petals 

 red and soft 

 girls with dreams 

 whisper "loves me not" 

 weightless rain drops 

 stomp the ground

 like a shattered boy 

 who can't make a sound 

 nettle lit breeze,

 whisk our oceans apart

 like-too old boys 

 with young girls' hearts

When I am happy,

I am brighter than the most radiant light,

My mind a conflagrant forest;

a blinding light devours wrong and right,

making me believe, unlike Icarus, 

the sun could not burn my wings;

she could never shun my deliverance.



When I am sad,

I sit stuck on things once had,

I am blinded by a radiant light,

so I retreat,

to a jet black night;

The sun a lion,

my soul it's meat,

the sun is glutton,

yet he does not eat



When I am happy,

my mind is hot as stars,

and my darkness lies home trapped,

behind honeycomb bars.

Unthreatened by my demons,

with their black suits and white cigars

Maybe it was the way you

whispered my name before I fell asleep,

asking if I was still awake 

Or the way 

your legs brushed against mine 

for warmth in the night 

Maybe it was the way your hair

was soft and smelled of a meadow 

Maybe it was the way

your eyes lit up like galaxies 

when you saw something you loved 

Whichever it is,

your magnificence was blinding, 

almost as if you were pieces of the sun.

Is it worth saving?

The world where 

boy has to love girl

and girl must love boy

and if it is not like this

it is not love

and you're cast away like a broken toy.

Is it worth saving?

The world where

skinny is the definition of pretty

so much so that girls

sit skipping meals

because that is the appeal.

Is it worth saving?

The world where 

we slaughter each other;

we separate children from their mother

from fathers, husbands, wives

because we dropped a bomb

to save - but **** - millions of lives.

Is it worth saving?

The world where

a book governs billions of lives

Where millions are killed to keep its lies

We worship an idea at best

and if you don't believe you have failed every test.

Is it worth saving?

The world where

a father calls his son weak 

for letting his emotions leak

from his secluded brain

Because if you are anything but cold

you are avowed a freak.

Is it worth saving?

The world where

women are shamed upon 

for having a voice

that is not just quiet and full of rejoice

Where girls are told to be sweet 

to the man who she witnessed beat

her mother who worships his feet

Where girls should not

be difficult or demanding

because they are not the ones to be commanding.

Is it worth saving?

Because all I see

Is a world that has too many problems;

Needs too much fixing;

But you can not fix something

That does not intend on changing.

The sun screams for a chance to speak

when the night is early 

and the toads and crickets have yet to creak.

She wants her last word to be prominent 

so she sends a philharmonic array of colors; 

Her reds full and oranges bashful to announce she is nothing but dominant. 



The moon makes soft wishes to be seen

In the night, she whispers to her creatures

hoping one day that she will be noticed by the queen.

She wants nothing but romance

so she fills her sky with home and tiny stars 

that twinkle with joy, but the sun dares not to spare a glance.



The sunrise squeals with delight

for it's that start of a new day, new beginnings

yet she is filled with nothing but spite.

She spews harsh words at the mournful moon

and she envies the birds as they sing 

because she herself can never manage to sing in tune.



The sunset lowers with ease

she says her most heartfelt condolences to those who are lost

and spreads her love through the air with her calming breeze.

She tells the moon to not be so scared

she should enjoy the company of her little stars and that in doubt,

she should remember that between her and the sun, light will always be shared.