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Teh
Lily Jan 2019
Teh
You’d think that after
All this time I’ve spent typing,
That I could spell “the”.
I always type too quickly and then I have to go back through and edit all my "tehs" :)
Lily May 2020
You’d think that after
All this time I’ve spent typing,
That I could spell “the”.

Brain gets going way
Faster than my hands and then
Teh the lights go BANG! out.

I’m in a horror
Movie and I can’t break free, can’t stop
This train of thought from

Moving onward, but
Then my dreaded enemy
Appears on teh screen.

Teh red squiggly line,
Object of my nightmares, bane
Of my existence.

I’m forced to stop, move
Teh cursor away from teh
Train, draining seconds.

Must catch up with my
Brain, must… I must… I’m losing
Steam… then another

Teh.
My English teacher challenged me to write a funny poem, so I decided to add onto my old poem "Teh."  Enjoy~
Lily Jul 2018
I thank you God, for creating me female, for showing me that Strength doesn't always come from muscle.
I thank you God, for creating me a preacher's daughter, aware From my earliest days about what you have done for me.
I thank you God, for creating my red hair, making me unique Among my friends and peers.
I thank you God, for giving me great friends growing up, allowing Me to see the beauty of friendship from a young age.
I thank you God, for my smarts and intelligence that help me Excel in school, and my ability to help others who are struggling.
I thank you God, for my ability to make new friends easily, and Talk well with kids and adults alike.
I thank you God, for giving me my writing, soccer, and Photography talents, which I can use to praise Your holy name.
I thank you God, for giving me my way with children, and Allowing me love them and help them see you.
I thank you God, for those minutes of solace you give me in the Middle of the night, when I can't sleep and I don't know why.
I thank you God, for allowing me to love; my boyfriend, my Family and friends, animals, the majestic world you have created.
Thank you for the reassurance of your forgiveness, and all the Little things you do for me that I don't even recognize.
This list could go on and on, but you know my heart.
Thank you, God.
Lily Jul 2018
I started with my dress,
The white one with the black flowery design.
I added my black scarf, draping it
Casually around my head,
Trying to stop my thoughts from drifting
To what I was dressing up for.
I slipped on my sandals and then
Slipped out the door,
Not slamming it because that felt like
An ending.
I didn’t want another ending.
Walking into the church,
The temperature went up 50 degrees,
And my anxiety went up 100.
I shook hands with the extended family,
Hugged your widow,
And comforted your grandchildren.
I made it through the opening liturgy,
Your favorite hymn, and the obituary.
I even stopped my tears from falling
During your granddaughter’s touching eulogy,
When she started sobbing up there on the altar.
Afterwards, I sat through the meal,
Everything tasting like cardboard in
My mouth as the temperature kept increasing.
Near the end of the night,
When the church was clearing out,
I went back to the food,
Craving a final bite of cheesy potato casserole
Before I could finally leave this night behind.
Yet when I get there,
The tray is cleaned out,
And there is no more cheesy potato casserole.
That’s when I finally break down and sob.
I didn’t get that last bite of
Cheesy potato casserole.
Sometimes the simplest things **** you.
Lily Feb 2019
Stinky, crowded, sweltering
Dedication
Laughing uproariously
Bouncing up with every Michigan pothole
Falling down into the laps of our friends
Riding to yet another competition
Frantically checking to see if we have gloves and gauntlets
The band bus
Lily Jan 2019
Not all fires start in the kitchen.
Not all love starts with the heart.
Don’t roam around the whole house
Uninvited before you get to know one room,
The most important room, the heart.
Get to know her heart before
You roam her body.
Not all fires start in the kitchen.
Not all love starts with the heart.
Lily Feb 2019
What was the first word ever spoken?
What started all of this language,
What started music, poetry?
What phrase was the first that the universe
Ever heard, the first words
That graced the air, that flew up
To be heard?
If you believe the Bible, as I do,
God said, “Let there be light.”
But what was the
First word that us humans spoke?
No matter what language it was spoken in,
I will believe until the end of time
That the first words spoken on Earth were
From Adam to Eve the first time he laid eyes on her:
“You’re beautiful.”
And that’s why we write poetry,
And critique ourselves,
And try so hard to find the perfect metaphors and similes.
Because we can never get even remotely close
To the eloquence of those first words.
“You’re beautiful.”
Inspired by M-E's poem, "Come closer" <3
Lily Nov 2018
She was a rose, pressed into the pages
Of a book, meant to hold a place.
Instead of a page in a book,
She held a place in his heart,
Which she thought she would always have.
But eventually, bookmarks are lost,
And stories are forgotten,
And all that is left is
The smell of the binding
As the book closes for the last time.
Just scribbles
Lily Oct 2018
I saw her first across the bowling alley,
Laughing at her own gutter ball.
She flipped her long black hair
Over her shoulder;
She wore a golden cross necklace
That bounced lazily against her
Beautiful olive colored skin.
Lady Gaga blaring from the speakers
Prompted her to dance back to her friends,
Who smile at her antics.
All of a sudden, she looks over at me, and
I try to pretend I wasn’t staring,
But it’s too late.
She smiles shyly, without her teeth,
Just a slight turn of her pink lips,
And her cheeks redden slightly.
Whatever manliness I still had in me
Melted when I saw her smile.
I smile back in what I think is a cute way.
My friends cries break thought my thoughts,
“It’s your turn!”  “Go already!”
Yet I can’t break my eyes off of her.
She goes to her friends and sits down,
Sips her Coke quietly.
“Go!”
I look at the clock.
I’ve wasted five minutes of the game.
I blame the girl in Lane 7.
Just a couple characters I observed at the bowling alley a few weekends ago.
Lily Jul 2019
The clock read 3 am,
And the street was snoring
When the station wagon bumbled
Into the driveway of the
House with the white railing porch.
Doors opened and slammed shut,
And he looked out the bay window
Towards the house next door
To see who had arrived at this
Ghostly hour.
T’was a girl, with seventeen years
Under her belt, same as he.
She sported a simple brown dress
That was pleated on the bottom,
And he noticed that her feet in those
White sandals were every bit as dainty
And delicate as the rest of her.
Her hair was tucked in a messy bun,
The kind it takes you hours to master
To make it seem like it only took you a few seconds.
He was convinced she hadn't needed practice.
The girl went to her trunk, and pulled out a
Large polka dotted suitcase, the size of
A true adventurer.
Looking closer, he saw how frayed the edges were,
And how the pink background looked almost white
Against the purple dots.
As she wheeled it around and began
Lifting it up the white railed steps,
He noticed maps sprawled all over the dashboard of her station wagon,
Of Wyoming, Utah, and Nevada.
He wished fervently he could see her license plate.
Who was this strange girl?
He had but a lowly Vermont license plate; why was she here?
The clock read 8 am,
And the street was waking up to the smell of bacon and eggs, and
The boy's head was once again
At the bay window, but a surprise awaited him at the house next door.
The station wagon was gone, no trace of it, and the white railed house
Might have even been the quietest house on the block.
The boy threw it away as a dream, but has never been able to forget
The girl with the polka dot suitcase.
Sorry I haven't been posting as frequently as I normally do! I was on vacation, which inspired me to write this poem, and now I'm back. I hope you're all having a great summer! <3
Lily Mar 2018
Conversations overlapping.
Suitcase wheels rolling.
Babies sobbing.
Mothers calling.
Headphones blaring.
People scurrying.
PA system whispering.
Starbucks bustling.
Airplanes taking off and landing.
And in the middle of everything,
The lady in black.
Sitting motionless, hands grasping her
Black umbrella, her sleek black dress
Accentuating her young body,
And whilst a black veil covers her face,
Her tears shine through, reflecting
From the bright lights of the airport.
When you look closer,
Her slim body trembles with concealed sobs,
And her calm facade is broken
With closer inspection,
Broken inside from something undetectable from the outside.
The lady in black.
We have all been her.
Lily May 2018
So many people talk about the
Light at the end of the tunnel.
But they don’t talk about
What comes after that.
They don’t talk about how
The light blinds you when you get too close,
How it completely swallows you, and
How you’re left confused and bewildered afterwards.
No one tells you that change can hurt you,
Internally- the worst way-
Turning your whole world upside down.
No one talks about how the
Light at the end of the tunnel can also be
The light of an oncoming train.
Lily Jan 2020
I was bleak
Dying upon the floor
I wished I had sought
The lost
The rare and radiant, the angels

Here
In the recent wake of Kobe Bryant's death, we should all be reminded that we shouldn't take people for granted.  Say what you feel while you still have the chance; you never know when those people will not be with you anymore.
Lily Jan 2019
I feel like a lab rat, like I’m being watched
And observed and my every move monitored.
Maybe even more so I feel like a puppet,
With different people pulling me this way and that,
Trying to get me to side with them or with her or with him.
Why can’t I decide for myself?
Or even better, how about you work it out
On your own?
Do I need to constantly be that friend who you
Talk to each other about behind their backs?
Do you think I want to be that friend who
Constantly has to choose between pleasing
You or the other?
Some days I feel like taffy, and you two are little kids
Baking in the kitchen,
Bickering about something that won’t matter in ten minutes.
You don’t realize the damage you do to the taffy
As you stretch it beyond recognition.
If you break the taffy,
Do you get a prize?
I'm always caught in the middle
Lily Jul 2018
As I took a walk outside,
I noticed something that caught my eye.
Twisted in the grass, ingrained with dirt,
What I saw made my heart hurt.

Monarch's wings I had found,
Which gave me feelings so profound.
An intense sadness, helplessness, fear,
Overcame me as I beheld these artifacts dear.

In death or life, they must have been torn,
These beautiful wings that the creature bore.
I picked them up and held them close,
These wings that symbolized what I feared the most-

Losing myself, my biggest part,
The part of my soul that is dearest to my heart.
And what for my memories, good and bad?
What if I couldn't remember anything; wouldn't that be sad?

The monarch's wings sit still on my dresser,
A reminder of my constant stressor,
Yet also comforting me just the same,
As I pass through each day, feeling slightly more brave.
Lily May 2018
The title is the declaration,
The beginning of the confrontation.
Strong and brave words,
Yet disguising a hidden meaning.
The opening stanza is the explanation,
Describing in fact and logic
How and why we feel,
Yet disguising the feelings themselves.
The middle of the poem is the emotion,
Grasping towards the heart of the soul,
Exploring what makes us human,
Yet not providing a satisfying ending.
The final stanza is the end of the argument,
The dramatic finish where you turn on your
Heel and walk away, leaving your foe
With nothing but a look of astonishment.
Yet sometimes, The Poet may not
Complete the task in real life.  
Our victories must be written out,
Preserved in ink or on a hard drive,
Because The Poet doesn’t have enough courage
Without his words by his side.
Yet that is the way of The Poet.
Lily Nov 2019
The scene was almost perfect, and
With the sun’s evening glow permeated the
Entire backyard, the flowerbeds at the back
Near the oak fence were extremely vibrant,
The bright oranges and purples and pinks
Leaping out at you like a lion.
The swingset created unnatural shadows on the lawn,
And the children playing created laughter that
Could be heard down the street.
The scent of neighbors burning leaves was strong,
And as the man sat on the back porch,
A beer in his hand and a Bible in the other,
He couldn’t help but wonder how long it would stay like this.
Perfect.
How much longer would he have like this, before the
Sun set,
The flowers wilted,
The swingset rusted,
The children grew up and moved out,
The lovely autumn weather turned to a blustering winter,
The Bible being more powerful than his beer.
One of his children squealed in delight as he
Swung higher and higher on the swing,
Trying to reach the clouds with the tips of his fragile fingers.
The man tries to put himself in the mindset of a kid,
Who believes the present is all that there is,
And whose mind doesn’t comprehend
Worrying about the past and future.
The man sighs contentedly, opening his
Bible and beer simultaneously as he thinks,
“I wish I could actually keep the present that was given to me.”
I got inspiration today from Kurt Vonnegut's "Slaughter-house Five"; he writes, "And I asked myself about the present: how wide it was, how deep it was, how much was mine to keep." It was a very interesting line, which sparked my idea for this poem.
Lily Apr 2018
I keep on messing up,
I can’t seem to do anything right.
I don’t even have to fess up,
The truth does not hide.
I’m trying so hard,
Why do the wrong words roll off my tongue?
They are just sitting in my mouth,
Waiting,
Lying in wait for the perfect moment to strike
And emerge, at the worst moment,
The moment when no matter what else is
In my mouth, they cannot be erased.
Sometimes my mind thinks these things,
And I feel guilty, increasingly guilty,
Every day the same.
I can’t keep my feelings bottled up inside,
Feelings that I shouldn’t be feeling in the first place.
My effort, my intensity, my enthusiasm is there,
But I can’t complete the task.  
My mindless words hurt,
Hurt those I care about most.
In my head, I know I shouldn’t say it,
But in my head it doesn’t sound as bad.
I know this is all in my head, I know
Everything will be okay, that my words,
Though not totally erased, will be forgotten, forgiven.
But I’ll say them again,
I know I will.
They’re just lying in wait, and that’s the truth.
That’s the truth.
Lily Mar 2020
The man was leaning back in his fancy wheelchair
So much that he was almost parallel with the ground,
And while everyone else who was
There for the church service was freaking out,
He was as still as a gym before a free throw.
His left leg was not present, his right one at an unnatural angle,
And my mind started to conjure up a bomb
That had thrown him through the air,
Away from his friends, his commander, away
From his life as he had known it.
He had large homemade, not quite mittens,
But knit sock-like articles over his hands,
Alternating orange and black yarn with only a couple of
Cute errors where orange touched orange or black touched black.
A slight grunt, a swift motion, and the mittens were off,
Revealing a left hand twisted into a fist and a right hand
In a white cast, hanging limp at his side.
His soft peppermint scent, large wrinkly face, and wispy
White beard was reminiscent of Santa Claus in the mall,
Though Old Saint Nick was never that far back in his chair.
His assistant was a frantic college girl who looked like she had lost a child at the park
And was trying to decide whether to ask for help or
Continue to struggle helplessly on her own.
Each turn of a dial or press of a button pushed the man farther down,
Until his feet were almost higher than his head.
Yet on the man’s face was the type of smile that a grandpa has
When he’s about to checkmate his grandson in a game of chess;
Triumphant, knowing, loving.
He must have seen me openly staring at his cruelly funny dilemma,
For he turned to me and grinned,
“Don’t worry about it; makes life interesting.”
I smiled back, not knowing what else to do.
As suddenly as a pitcher throws to first,
The man jolted upward, and his chair returned
To its normal angle.
With the crisis averted, church
Began, and although I tried to focus on the preacher,
My eyes and mind kept wandering to my veteran.
His one leg tapped to his own drum,
His strong voice belting out the melody on the hymns,
And a hard “Amen!” was heard every other sentence.
Happy.
He was happy.
He had one leg, two useless hands, was living in a place away
From family and friends, with much of the joys
Of his youth over, past, gone,
Dead.
But my veteran was happy.
His frantic college assistant seemed very pleased
That his chair didn’t have a repeat episode on the way out
Of the chapel after church.
He shot me a quick nod as he was wheeled out,
His wisp of a beard bouncing on his chest.
Perhaps he would have been a Santa Claus at a mall
In a different life, one without war, sadness, pain, hardship.
Maybe he could have been a more active grandpa to his grandkids,
If he had them; he could have played football catch in the yard,
Secretly baked cookies for Grandma with them at two in the morning,
Get on the roof and scare his kids hanging Christmas lights.
Maybe he could have done and been all these things, but for the
War, sadness, pain, hardship.
I know what the veteran would say to that though:
“Don’t worry about it; makes life interesting.”
Thought I'd write about a character I saw at a veterans' home church service this Sunday.  I thought he had a good lesson to teach, although he wasn't aware he was teaching.
Lily Jul 2018
When I’m looking out my bedroom window,
And look down,
I see the big old air conditioner compressor,
Rusty after decades of use
In Michigan’s sometimes-90s summers.

When I’m looking out my bedroom window,
And glance left,
I see the faithful church,
Where I’ve spent almost as much of my life in as this house,
Where I’ve met my best friends.

When I’m looking out my bedroom window,
And view right,
I see the standard size basketball hoop,
That I’ve dribbled under my whole life,
That has seen countless children attempt at its rim.

When I’m looking out my bedroom window,
And overlook the church’s parking lot,
I see the large backyard,
Where I’ve kicked innumerable soccer *****,
And dug limitless snow forts.

When I’m looking out my bedroom window,
And gaze into the past,
I see you and me,
Riding around in that PowerJeep,
And that dent we put in the church.

When I’m looking out my bedroom window,
And contemplate what’s in the present,
I see the crooked basketball hoop,
The steeple that lost its cross,
And the dead tree we don’t have the heart to tear down.

When I’m looking out my bedroom window,
And focus on the future,
I see a million different scenarios
Playing out in my head,
And I don’t even know which one I want.

All I know is nothing’s
Going to get done now,
My future isn’t going to be decided,
My life isn’t going to make itself,
While I’m just gazing out my bedroom window.
Lily Jul 2018
He seemed to be the perfect guy,
Handsome, popular, athletic, and smart,
With his only flaw being his overprotective nature.
She seemed to be the perfect girl,
Beautiful, popular, kind, and loving,
With her only flaw being that she's too generous.
They seemed to be the perfect couple,
Buying little gifts for each other for no reason,
Sending cute messages every morning,
Always there when the other needed them.
It seemed to be the perfect break-up;
They said they still loved each other,
But thought they would be better
For each other down the road.
They said they would wait.
He seemed to be okay with it,
But at night he would cry into his pillow,
Thinking of nothing else but her,
Needing her by his side.
She seemed to be okay with it,
But some part of her believed it was her fault,
And when the razor came out,
She definitely was not okay with it.
They seemed to have gotten over it, and were now
Just “best friends”, but in reality, every day
They drifted further and further apart,
Until the person they claimed they were
So in love with was a complete stranger.
He seemed to be getting better;
He no longer stayed up at night crying, instead,
He had found other girls to
Take her place by his side.
She seemed to be getting better;
The bright flashing makeup was there
To help hide the fact that she still wore long sleeves.
Everything seemed to be okay,
They seemed to be okay.
But everything is not as it seems.
Lily May 2018
Monday was the day of preparations
That were never made, the day of panicking,
Scrambling for a handhold when
The rocks are falling around your head.

Tuesday was the deep breath,
The calming mantra in your mind
That controls the panic from the previous day,
Steeling yourself for another week.

Wednesday was the day of realizations,
That all the things you planned to do
Are going swiftly going down the drain,
Evaporating into the recesses of your mind.

Thursday was the day of hanging on,
Struggling against a severe landslide
Of cares and worries, desperate to make it
To the top of the cliff.

Friday was the day of relief and triumph,
The relaxing of your brain muscles that
Signals the mountain peak, the end of the struggle,
The final step towards complete contentment.

The week was finally over, the war finally won,
And you realize that you must muster
Enough strength to do this again and again,
That the week is not for the weak.
Lily Apr 2018
Was the foundation not good enough,
The make-up not strong enough,
To hide what I’d been going through?
Were the bruises too large,
The cuts too deep,
To ever possibly conceal?
Was my mask of happiness too thin,
My cheerful voice too fake,
To convince them of my stability?
I knew it was all for naught,
Yet I hoped I could stay strong.
I knew nothing would protect me,
From this world where I don’t belong.
Their accusing looks, their quiet gasps,
Were enough to tell me what their hearts contained.
I’m broken, imperfect, and selfish;
And they knew.
Lily Jul 2018
Do I remember too much about
The strangers I meet?
There was the skinny seven year old at the
Park in Detroit, who I learned liked autumn
And colorful leaves, pumpkins and Halloween,
Scarecrows and working in the garden.
There was the Japanese lady at the
Hotel breakfast in DC, calmly eating a donut,
Staring off into space, gracefully lost in her own
Thoughts and feelings.
There was the happy man at the
Veteran’s home, who talked gratefully to me
About his experiences, desperate to
Share his story.
There was the single mother on
The park bench, allowing me, a total stranger,
To watch her children while she took
A much needed nap.
There was the black man at the
Movie theater, who offered me his
Extra bag of popcorn and made sure I knew
When the jump scares were.
Do I remember too much about
The strangers I meet?
I don’t think so.
Appreciate humanity,
Because you never know when it might be gone.
Each one of these people were beautiful,
In their own way, and they weren’t even
Trying to be.
They were just living their lives,
And I was fortunate enough to be a part of them
For a short time.
You know why they were beautiful?
Because they just were.
Lily Jul 2018
When I say, “I love you”,
I'm saying that you are beautiful, and
That no matter what you think, if you just got
Drenched in the rain or just woke up, that
You will always be the most beautiful human to me.
When I say “I love you”,
I'm saying that I want to stay with you for the rest of my life,
Grow old and gray with you,
And never, ever leave you.
When I say, “I love you”,
I'm saying that you're my most favorite person in the world,
That I want to care for you with everything I have,
And that you are first and I am second.
When I say, “I love you,”
I mean it.
Do you?
Lily Nov 2019
There is thunder in our hearts,
Lightning in our souls,
A pounding in our chests and a
Quaking in our bones.
“Our time has come!”
The cry arises,
“Our time has come!”
We charge forward unafraid,
Into life’s tantalizing parade,
Our colors waving high
As we ride on to the sky,
Chasing our dreams and visions,
Decimating anything in our way.
There is thunder in our hearts,
Lightning in our souls,
A pounding in our chests and a
Quaking in our bones.
“Our time has come!”
The cry arises,
“Our time has come!”
Today's inspiration was Imagine Dragon's song "Thunder". Hope you enjoy!
Lily Aug 2018
Listen to me.
This is going to sound cliche,
But I think you need to hear it.
We are in high school,
We have our whole lives ahead of us.
Yes, I know you love them,
And knowing that they don't return
Your feelings anymore is heartbreaking.
I understand that.
But please, please,
Don't fall into the trap of
Thinking less of yourself because of this.
You are a beautiful, talented human
Without a partner.
Yes, a partner is a great thing to have,
But loving yourself will get you so much further!
You are simply YOU.
Nobody should be able to give that to you,
Nor take it away.
If they don't understand and appreciate you,
There will be somebody who does.
Just because this one doesn't work out,
Doesn't mean you have to
Give up on love.
I'm not saying go out and date right away,
But take your time,
Live your life,
Do the things you love to do,
Find yourself.
Once you find out who you are,
Nobody can touch that.
You will be unstoppable.
You are a determined and talented person,
And you are going places in life.
Yes, breakups are really tough.
But you are tougher.
Don't worry; if you're not in high school, the rest of the poem still applies to you!
Lily Nov 2019
You left me at dusk,
Gaunt and sad and gray,
And when the morning glow arose,
I could find you not.

The night before was faded
Like a withered rose, and
I could scarcely recall your smile,
Your sunflower smile.

Why were you taken from beside me?
I hope there is a reason, as the time
I’ve spent since you left has been
Measured and is of little worth.
Inspired by Robert Frost's "Flower-Gathering"
Lily Jun 2018
He was the tough guy,
The bad boy, the person
You never, ever crossed.
He was the owner of the old hotrod, the
House you always avoided
Because it was too loud and smelly.
He was the guy who never
Shaved his beard, kept at least
Three motorcycles in his garage, and
Had a different girlfriend every month.
He was the tough guy.
But then his dad took ill,
And suddenly he didn’t care
About his hotrod anymore.
His buddies were forgotten,
His workshop untouched,
As his calloused hands held
His father’s weak and shaky ones.
The graveside service was
A week later, and I remember
Him kneeling over his father’s coffin,
Head bowed in prayer,
Trying to stay calm, but
Tears flew down his cheeks with
An intensity that no one had
Seen before, nor since.
And that’s when I learned that
Tough guys aren’t always tough.
Lily Apr 2018
Dear Winter,
I’m sorry I have to steal your glory,
Steal your brilliance,
And steal your snow, year after year.
I think your glory, brilliance, and snow
Are awe-inspiring, but not everyone thinks so.
I hope you will not be mad at me for my
Colorful, blossoming flowers,
Infantile green buds,
And timidly shining sun.
I am certainly not mad at you for your
Frigid, billowing winds,
Unmerciful blizzards and hailstorms,
And brilliant snow displays in the early morning.
I want to remind you that every season has another season
That steals its throne,
And I just happen to be that season for you.
Please accept this, my sincere apology.
Your fellow season, Spring
Lily Apr 2018
Weak and sensitive and delicate and fragile.  
I’m weak, the skimpy walls I’ve built around my mind
Are easily destroyed, never enough.
I’m sensitive, any little jolt or knock sending waves of
Hurt straight to my soul.
I’m delicate, a priceless China doll that can hardly be
Moved from the shelf for fear of irreparable cracks.
I’m fragile, needing someone to carress my heart, not allowing Anything to seep inside and break me.
But I’m supposed to be strong.
I’m supposed to have indestructible walls,
Tough skin,
An invincible, courageous presence,
Everything I need within myself.
But I don’t.
I just don’t.
Yet I lie daily to preserve this invincible image,
This confidence,
This strength.
And society believes it,
They welcome my transparent strength,
Seeing it as opaque,
Because they don’t want to deal with what is
Underneath.
Lily Mar 2018
My eyes are flooded with tears unshed,
My mouth overflowing with words unsaid.
Words of happiness and tears of sorrow,
Are threatening my vision of the morrow.

My heart is empty, numb, and dull,
My brain a desolate prison cell.
No temptation, incentive, motivation,
Could ever get my heart to feel emotion.

The ceaseless creaking of my bed,
The endless wonderings of my head,
As I toss and turn at night,
Debating whether I should want the light.
Lily Feb 2019
i.
The sight of it brings back memories of
Your rival team, confronting you on the line of scrimmage,
The rain pouring down, stinging your face,
Your breath misting in the arctic air.

ii.
The smell of it brings you back to that Friday night
When you tripped up the bleachers and
Spilled popcorn all over yourself because
Her red hair and bright smile made you stop in your tracks.

iii.
The clang of the pins against each other
Follows you in the hallway wherever you go,
Reminding you of that triumphant feeling
That took over when your basketball team won districts.

iv.
The warm feeling that fills your heart when
You give it to her, the red-haired bright-smiled girl,
Matches the warm feeling she feels when she
Puts it on, drowning in your scent.

v.
You know that years later, after you’ve left high school
And everything about that place behind,
The sight of that jacket will bring back all the memories
Of football games, Friday nights, championships, and her.
we don't know what we have until it's gone
Lily Jul 2018
We are the stars;
We are shining and twinkling,
Providing light for each other in our darkest times.
We are the stars;
Even though we may seem far apart,
We are always close in our hearts.
We are the stars;
We are beautiful and lovely,
Appearing perfectly tranquil,
Yet in reality, explosive.
Lily Feb 2020
i.
How her wavy hair caressed her
Flushed cheeks, the sound her beige boots made
On the floor as she ran into class right before the bell,
Her leather backpack slapping against her back.

ii.
Her flower skirt, black background
Against orange and yellow blossoms,
Blooming just as loud as the
Gorgeous smile on her face.

iii.
The way she bobbed along to the music
Flowing through her earbuds, and her voice,
Oh! The most breathtaking notes he’s ever heard;
Five Seconds of Summer performed from angel lips.

iv.
That he was utterly and irrevocably in love with
Her.
Lily Oct 2021
What is this Love?
This glorious mercy from above:
This life He gives
So I can live
How can I not worship fore’er?
O read and see—the Lord is here.

What is this Cross?
His love in fullness there displayed
So I can say
That e’en today
I have a home eternally
O read and see—the Lord is free.

What is this Tomb?
The reason He was in the womb:
To bleed and die
So He could buy
Us all back from our own dark graves
O read and see—the Lord, He saves.

What is this Day:
This day He rose and left the grave?
Let the world know
His love o’erflow?
How can I not tell all the world?
O read and see—the Lord, He serves.

What is this Love?
This glorious mercy from above:
This life He gives
So I can live
How can I not worship fore’er?
O read and see—the Lord is here.
can't wait for Easter! :)
Lily Jun 2018
Did I fall for you the first time you said,
‘I love you’?
No, no, it was definitely before that.
Was it that time when you made
That corny joke, and your
Goofy grin made my day?
No, no, it was even before that.
Was it the time when you found me in the
Empty hallway, and brushed your
Fingers through my hair and told me
Everything would be alright?
No, it was still before that.
Was it the time that you told me about
Your struggling family,
And you looked me directly in the eyes and
I saw your firm resolve and your
Willingness to initiate change?
No, it wasn’t even then.
I fell in love with you when I was awake at 4
In the morning and I thought the whole world
Could hear me sobbing and I called you,
And you answered.
Maybe that makes me seem weak, but
I just wanted to tell you
When I f
                  e
                       l
                           l
                               .
Lily Sep 2018
I don’t think some of you know
How much you mean to me.
Every time the bell rings, and
I see you coming out of your class,
Reliable, every day,
Calming me and reassuring me that
No matter what is happening,
The world is still moving.
Every time you smile at me in class,
Even though we don’t really talk,
It brightens my day and
Makes me realize that maybe
Mankind isn’t so bad after all.
Every time we share a laugh,
A football game, a tough test,
A change in the school,
I grow closer to each and every one of you,
Even though you don’t realize it.
But when that final bell rings,
Will you be there?
Will you be with me past final exams,
Graduation,
After the final bell?
Because you will know who your real friends are
When the final bell rings.
Lily Aug 2018
It’s bad when I run
Out of titles for all my
Sad poems about you.
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