"Hey!" I call out.
But of course it's unheard.
She flits back and fourth,
Like an uncertain bird.

She's tearing up piles,
Clothes flying behind.
She's frantically looked
In each region, but mine.

"*******!"
She yells to the sky.
"Of all things to lose,
This one goes in my eye."

I snicker. It's true.
A conundrum, she's got.
In the bathroom she speaks "Are you here??"
I am not.

She always sees through me,
What a wonderful girl
She brings me out with her
And I show her the world

Her life became clear,
The day I was hers.
Life before me, she recounts,
Was a blur.

She loves me, and I her.
You could say that I'm quacked.
She speaks through a sigh
"I hate you, Contact."

It seems to me that Myths exist to put the mind at ease. It substitutes as reason for phenomena like these:
Why thunder booms
Why lightning strikes
Why the sun is gone at night
They ease our questions lending fears and banish out our fright.

Myths give life to many Gods
Who's lives compared to ours are odd
Some bring the sun to sky in day
Some ferri souls who've passed away
Some tend the earth, whom we call Mother
Some far more fair than any other

You ask me can these myths be true?
To decide my friend, that's up to you.

Black holes share a selfish task: Imprison all existence
Voraciously consuming light with infinite persistence.

The death of stars gives birth to them
Bright light turned vacant chasm
And when you ask them where they went
They'll tell you no one has 'em

All across the galaxies,
these spots will span and spin.
Nostalgic of the stars they were,
they'll say "remember when?"

And even if you answered back, your
voice would go unheard
Cause just like light, no sound escapes:
It's trapped and that's assured.

Gravity's Relentless Pull
not only bends the light
It bends the minds of any who
bear witness to it's might

Now if I were immortal
also, if I couldn't die
and if I had the superpowers,
out to space I'd fly

And into hollow empty spans
Beyond the solar stretch
I'd venture to a massive hole
and into it I'd trek

How arduous, yet marvelous a
journey I would face
For the secrets I would come upon
have never been displaced

A psychic read my palm one day.
What she saw she didn't say.

She stared in awe, and hugged me well.
She thanked me for what my palms tell.

I'm wide awake, mind, heart, and soul.
It's time for bed, but I won't go.

I sit awake, stare at the wall.
There must be reason for this all.

I'm staring out, I question God.
Are you there, or are you not?

Just go to sleep, it's time for bed.
Now try to tell that to my head.

I want you to be in love with all of me. Or at least be aware of all of me. My bad hair days. My natural face without makeup. My beautiful body in lingerie. My frumpy appearance in sweatpants and a jacket. My happy, and joyous smile when I'm laughing filled with energy. My expressionless, leaning more toward a frown, kind of face when I'm unstimulated.
My ugly expressions that I can make my face do.
My **** and enticing expressions that I can also do.
My heart and soul of who I am. I want you all to know me. All of me. Or not at all.

I have a small ***, but it's nice.
I'm not your average beauty but a lot of people think I'm pretty. Including my mom, but she'd never tell me that.
My teeth aren't as white as I wish they'd be, but they're still pretty. They're not as straight as I'd like them to be, but my smile is still beautiful.
My ***** aren't as full as I'd like to see, but they're pretty and plump and perky.
I like both men and women, God, women are beautiful, and my relatives are completely against that. I've met my father only once, but it was a grande time and I can cross that off my bucket list.
I'm a contradictory being, because I'm headstrong and confident, but as anxious and self conscious as can be.
I've got a lot to say to the world, but never know how to say it. I'm complicated. I complicate simple things, and over think it all. I'm cold and distant and warm and affectionate, and I'm hard to reach but not because I'm busy; because I rarely have the energy to try to keep up a proper or good enough conversation. I care too much and I shut down. People, even family, hear from me only once in a while, because on those days I am seering with energy and confidence, and most importantly, a lack of concern of if what I'm saying is right, or funny, or good enough. The best way to reach me is to ask for my help, but once I'm done I recede back into the background, where I'm safest. Safest, but most unhappy and unfulfilled. The spotlight is where I belong and it terrifies me because I am not good at being vulnerable and exposed, but I am teaching myself because they will eat me alive if I can't stand against the wolves. You will hear my voice some day, and you'll know it. It will be me. The shy, confident, unimpressive, but ever imposing girl we all saw a few times but never took much notice of. Until I'm ready. Then you won't be able to look away.

Life keeps strippin' away my morals and I'm trying so hard to get 'em back.
I want desperately to be a good person but it just ain't that white 'n black.

I hear "do this, don't do that
go away, i want you back
you're perfect, you are so unique
now change and join conformity

be like us, don't be yourself
You wouldn't wanna go to hell…
Everybody's going left, so why you going right?"

I break my chains, they put them back, escapism for life.