two months left in the year
elections
holidays
Christmas is near
I ain't gon front
I'm a little afraid for where my country is going
off a pier
destruction is near
arguing all I hear
it's so hard to be a teenager these days
no
a girl
no
a woman
but not quite
women have rights
no, not right
never right
but rights
enough to keep them quiet
quiet
two months left in the year
so much that I hear
information
mis information
this information
right
wrong
left
right
up
down
side to side
and over again
there are two months left in the year
be glad if by January I haven't jumped off a pier

I wanna be more than a warm body someone you want to see,
not see,
look into my eyes and see
See me
more than what you ever could be
contain so much pain suffering sorrow, an anguish,
but it is so beautiful.
So wonderful
so full of happiness and smiles and good things and bad.
I want to be more than a warm body.
I want you to mean something to me
Someone I mean
someone I see
Someone I breathe
Someone I need
I wanna be more than a warm body to you

Everytime I look in the mirror I smile
Not because I think im pretty
But because i don't want the mirror girl to be sad
Because to me she is separate
I don't want that girl to see me cry
Everytime I look in the mirror I smile
Not because I'm happy
but because she's pretty
Even if I am ugly
Inside out and all over
That girl will always be pretty
Everytime I look in the mirror I smile
Because that girl is me
She deserves to be pretty
She deserves to be happy
Inside out
And all over

I am trying to find solace in silence
Comfort in quiet
Safety in my slumber
As seasons of friendship end I struggle with the idea silence
Notifications on but my phone doesn't buzz
Work, school, work, school, study, practice study.
No need for texts if you don't have time
Breathe
Sit and breathe
Breathe and sit
I have never quite sat in silence
Always has there been noise
The noise in my head
The noise of my life
For one of the first times in my life in sit comfortably in silence

You made me a poet
You made my pencil and paper meet
My words hit paper
All I am is a product of what you have made me to be
You made me a poet

I think perhaps that I am too sensitive
The snowflake
The idea that my generation is soft and can't handle conflict might be true, because because in my eyes, all conflict is evil,
maybe I am stirring up conflict,
maybe I am the one whole holding the lighter and lighter fluid at the bridges that I burn.
Maybe I'm too sensitive.
A snowflake in a pool of lava,
I am just begging to burn in flames. Perhaps I just am unable to live a life without conflict.
Maybe I'm just messy.
Maybe I'm too sensitive
offended by everyones words
hurt by every pin
Maybe I'm too sensitive

I have always run a mile a minute.
My words moving faster than I could ever run.

Thought through or not words flow out of my mouth like water

I haven't been able to shut up for the last 15 years.

The grass, the caterpillars, tired of my talking.

The grasses are screaming.

The cats, the lizards, crawling away swiftly.

The caterpillars turned to butterflies in order to fly away from me.

And here's silence.

I've never heard silence not even in the depths of my mind.

I've always wondered what it's like but
It's a sword in a stone that I will never be able to touch.

I have always run a mile a minute.

My words are like a fire with every sentence oil is doused upon the flame.
I crave the extinguish of silence

And yet in the dark of mind when all of the crows have flown away
Silence is just an idea not yet formed