If I were a celebrity...
I would contact all the rest of the female celebrities attending an upcoming red carpet event and try and get everyone including myself to show up without any makeup on at all to display not natural beauty, but a lack of concern for outer beauty to society and the media.

If I were a famous music artist...
I would write songs about imperfections I would write songs to heal people emotionally in the way only music can and get people who enjoy my music to contact me with their stories and meet with them so I can write songs personalized to their story so they can always have a song that they can 100% relate to.

If I were a famous author...
I would write books from the point of view of a girl who is unarguably NOT traditionally physically pretty, not necessarily traditionally ugly, but not particularly pretty (by society's standards and definitions I mean because beauty doesn't have a REAL definition), but my character would be so beautiful inside. I would write about a character who does all the normal things a real person does and not everything in her life would end in happily ever after because in real life, not everything does. She would be a real type of person, she would walk into rooms and forget what she was there for (which I do an embarrassing amount of times in a day) she would occasionally trip down the stairs (and up it too the way I ever so clumsily do) she would hate having uneven hoodie strings, her favorite song would come on all the time on the radio when she pulls into the garage, she would press those little buttons you find on the lids of fast-food drinks and she would always get stuck behind slow-walkers at the mall. I would create a character people can relate to because there are far too many books about perfect beautiful people with perfect lives where things turn out perfectly for them and I’d like to create a role model of a character who is not perfect.

If I were someone who could reach millions of people with my words, I would want to do so much. But I am just me, and my words cannot influence the whole world. I can’t change society, I am so small in our big, big world I don’t have a voice. I hope those who have a voice use it well.

Repost if you wish you had a bigger voice
Comment and tell me what you would do to change the world if you had a bigger voice

Why do I care so much about my physical appearance?
You think it's because I actually give the slightest **** about what you think of me?
Ha. No offense but I couldn't care less what other people think of me. I mean this in the nicest way possible but if you don't like me, ***** your opinion. You're beautiful and you don't have to think I am.
You think I would act like I was thrown into a ceiling fan as a child the way I do if I cared what people thought of me?
No. By all means, please. Feel free to find me ugly!
Write poetry about it!
Etch it into bathroom stall doors! Put up posters for all I care!
I don't care about BEING beautiful!
I DO care about feeling beautiful though.
Feeling like I'm not hideous.
Because it HURTS to feel that way.
Don't you dare comment about my inability to leave the house without lipstick on unless you have BEEN me for a day and felt this pain of inadequacy.
Please.
I really don't care if I am pretty.
I just want to feel like it.

Repost if this is you...or if you just like, feel like reposting.
Please comment! I love to read interpretations of my work and really anything else you have to say!

I’ve been lying at the foot of the couch
Not on the cushions, just on the carpet
With my lips shut tight and my eyes wide open
Finding patterns in the ceiling
Ridges and shadows form constellations
I used to do this when I was a little girl
Finding snowflakes and moose antlers
The traced outlines of autumn leaves
And pearl necklaces
On the ceiling
Shapes made out of the ceiling’s uneven surface
Shapes made out of shadows
I haven’t had this sort of space in a while
Space inside my mind
Enough space for trivial things
Like making shapes out of shadows
My darkest black has become
The color of the ace of spades in a playing card deck
It used to be the color of ash and coal
But my darkest black
Is so much of a lighter black now
I haven’t had room for thoughts like these in a while
There wasn’t room to think about nothing
Because my mind was being taken up by thoughts of blades
And numbers and letters and measuring tapes
But not anymore
I cleared out all that
And now I have room
For thinking about nothing at all
For making shapes in the ceiling
Shapes made out of shadows

Repost if you have room in your mind for trivial things now, and you didn’t before at some point. Or if you just really like to repost stuff, then you go on and feel free to do that! I fully support that! ;P
Please comment! I love to read interpretations of my poetry or your thoughts on my work or on poetry itself as an art! 

Silver blue black red and brown
The colors we wore in that picture
Smiling all three like nothing is wrong
When everything was
Just don't look to close at the eyes
In the photographs
You'll see the hidden pain
It reveals too much
Don't look too close at the wrists either

Amazing how fine you can look in a picture when really the only thought on your mind is death (especially yiur own) and agony. A little blood, too. What twisted secrets we kept back then.

You.
You. You.
You. You.You. You.You. You.You. You.
YOU
you...you...you.
Youyouyouyouyouyouyouyouyouyouyouyouyou­youyouyouyouyouyouyouyouyouyouyouyouyouyouyouyouyouyouyouyouyouyo­uyouyouyouyouyou
You.
.......................................you.­
You
yoU.




                                                               you


you. you, you, you.
                        

                                      you
                            you  
                                          you
                              you
                                      you
                                           you
                                    you
                           you




        you              you                                      
           you         you                you                 you       you
             you     you            you      you          you        you
                   you                 you       you          you         you
                 you                   you      you            you         you
               you                     you      you              you you you
             you                             you                                     you
           you


You.

If you could find powerful meaning and could sense the intensity intended in this poem, you are truly a poet. If you could see past the single word and find the soul of this poem please like, comment and tell me how. I want to know if anyone else can find emotion within the single word: You. The word that symbolizes someone different for everyone, but means so, so much.

Losing something precious
Real or unreal
Alive, dead or neither
A loved one, an opportunity, someone’s trust, maybe the wedding ring you still wear even after a shattering divorce, no matter how furious you still are
The loss decorates your soul with flames the color or ink and charcoal
It burns away all that was linked to or too near to what you lost
Forgetting something precious
Hated or dearly loved
Broken or shining
A dalliance, an old friendship, or possibly even just an old worn sweater
from your first day of kindergarten
It doesn’t hurt as much as loss because you don’t realize it has happened
But there is this cracked and crumbling sense of longing
When you desperately search in your pile of thoughts for that memory
But it’s gone now
Like the panic that grips you when you drop something tiny and treasured
And it’s gone forever, lurking in the shadows
But it is so much worse to forget than to lose
It might not be an agony that is quite as blaring and ****** as loss
But it is a different kind of excruciating pain that never ever fades
Like a dull ache
Because even if you lose something
and the anguish rakes its blood-caked fingernails down your heart
Every. Single. Day.
One moment long ago, you never wanted to forget it
And now that you have,
It’s too late to recall it.
…
Never forget what you have lost even if it is gone
Because if you do, your heart will never lose the stinging stabbing
of what you forgot.

Here it is Creep :) Thanks so much for the collaboration invite, and accepting my earlier collab. invite! Such a thought provoking concept. Plus it was fun! I'd love to do it again anytime!
-Ember

The one thing our society fears the most in intangible
It is not rejection, nor hatred, nor even flaws although
All three have been made out to be terrifying
By the world we live in
It is the one thing we fight to evade most of all
The single thing we are so afraid of experiencing
And giving in to
The sole thing we cannot understand fully
And are petrified by the idea of it dominating us…

Emotions

…please don’t ever be afraid of feeling.