grace 5d
Color is nothing more than perception. Maybe Color is a deception. A distorted coalition of just, particles? Well.. not really. Perhaps Color is a collection of pigments. I mean, that's what scientists would define Color as, right? Well that's not correct either. Let's say that Color is the spectrum of radiation that humans can detect with their eyes. Is it that? Hmm.. I would not say that It is soley that. Color is more than just light. Color is powerful. Color is heart-warming. Color is beautiful. No, no no no. Color is even more than that, you see. It was only up until recently that I have understood what Color is. September 24th, 2017, in fact. That day.. oh man. That day marked the formal introduction of Color into my life. That moment that I was able to touch Color. But not only that.. I could hear Color. Yeah, you read that right. Since then, I have used all of my senses to perceive Color. But at this point, I can't hide the identity of Color anymore. I have rambled on for long enough. That Color, is Jordyn. She has shown me true color and for that, she has my heart and my everlasting gratitude.
My boyfriend doesn’t write. He’s not the greatest at it. But he wrote this for me a few weeks ago. I love him more than I could ever love anything else, and I’m so grateful for him.
grace Feb 28
I think she’s making a huge mistake.
I can’t shake this gut feeling that he’s using her.
He whispers sweet things in her ear and all I see
Is the snake from Eden.
”Bite the fruit; it tastes so sweet, just like you.”
He’s dangerous.
I think she’s making a huge mistake.
As long as he’s with her, I can’t be her friend.
grace Feb 23
Scott Peterson was a resource officer, armed, on campus.
He was too cowardly to risk his life and save those children
that he was supposed to protect.

As children were dying, he was outside crying, scared, lying to himself.
Telling himself that he wanted to live while our youth died,
telling himself that he mattered more than them.
Scott Peterson, a coward,
The shame of this country.
A house realtor steals jewelry and valuables from his clients
out in sunny Arizona.
As if he didn't have a lot of money already.
Speaking of money,
Dear Mr. "President,"
Is that all there is anymore?
Is that what all politicians are after?
As people are starving on the streets, living in ghettos;
As children are getting shot in their own schools,
Pleading for you to change our laws and you turn a blind eye,
all you do is look for more opportunities
to earn money for yourself.
Mr. "President,"
We all know your speeches are written for you,
they're scripted,
You're told what to say.
You pretend like you care about the wellbeing of the common people.
The people like me, the people living on the streets.
But you don't.
You are a greedy, selfish man, who was voted into office by people who are just as greedy and selfish as you.
I'm probably going to get threatened,
and told that I'm stupid for thinking that all this country is,
is shameful and cowardly,
greedy, idiotic, cruel, and profound.
I'm going to be told that I don't know what I'm talking about.
I've only been alive for 18 years, how could I possibly know anything about how the world works?
The thing is,
I don't.
I have no idea how the world works,
but I know that something is wrong when my classmates and I are scared
to walk into school every day.
Something needs to change.
You, the so called president,
You, our elders and old timers,
We, as a society, need to change.

We can't keep acting like this because if we do, our already crumbling country,
is going to fall apart.
Welcome to America, everybody.
*The Land of the Greed, and the Home of the Shame.
I fucking hate this place.
grace Jan 29
death is cold.
its the snow on the ground in the winter;
the darkness of a moonless night.
its the chill creeping up your back,
around your shoulders.
its the whisper that you hear in the wind,
or the shadow you see around the corner.
death is the burn of fire
on your bare, vulnerable skin.
death is crying his name in the dark,
convulsing, shaking, seething.
death is driving past that horrid place
at midnight;
thinking of drowning in the dark sea.
death is the warmth you feel
at your back when you feel nothing at all.
its the ghost that you miss.
its the voice that you can't hear anymore.
death is permanent.
death is....
I really wish that death wasn't so permanent. That I could hear Hunter talk or sing. That death didn't exist for people like him.
  Dec 2017 grace
You cannot tell her she's beautiful,
You cannot tell her you love her,
You cannot tell her she's your world
When she's at her best moments.

You may only tell her those things,
If you're ready for her to have those off days,
If you're ready for her to not always wear makeup,
If you're ready to deal with her mood swings,
If you're ready for her to be clingey some days and distant others,

You cannot tell her any of the pretty little comments,
Unless you can handle her
Alone at two A.M.
As she's struggling with life,
And wondering why

She is not enough to win her own internal battles
-Don't you dare tell her you can handle her all the time if you're only ready to handle her at her best.
grace Dec 2017
He is mine, and no one else's.
He is sweeter than candy and softer than silk.
He is the universe.
He is beautiful.
Wounded, but beautiful.
How was I so deserving of him?
He is my warmth, and without him
I'd die.
He's the sun to my Earth.
The moon to my stars.
She tried to take him from me.
Tried, but he is mine.
His heart, his love.
Him, that one over there, he is mine.
And I am his from this day
till the end of my days.
I love him, and he loves me.
He is mine, and no one else's.
I'm a little salty but I don't know how to express my thoughts so whatevs.
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