Hello to all that write under the stone cold moon.
Hello to all of the broken hearts and the judged.
Hello to the chubby girls who stare at porcelain dolls.
Hello to the normal boys who dream of being important.

YOU ARE IMPORTANT AND DON'T FORGET IT!

This may sound cliche but it is all about what is in inside that counts.
I am not usually the one to believe in fate our destiny but I do believe that
We are all special and that we should let it shine.

Please let your soul shine and never let anyone extinguish that light.

I saw no retribution, except for the outcasts and the coyotes.
I received retribution because I belong with them.
I am not an outcast.
So I must be a coyote.

I am not great like my relatives the wolves.
I am not feared because of my small size.
I am a symbol of selfishness, greed, and deceit.
I am small and cowardly because I fear the society we live in today.

Must I be a coyote and must I bear this retribution?

I just want to be wanted and
HUMAN
But I have a coyote soul . . .

I hate you.

I hate everything about you.

I hate how you think that you can knock me down and threaten me.
I hate how you think that I need you and that I am not resourceful.
I hate how you think that I will not make it on my own.

I am strong. I am smart. I will get through this. Even if I have to leave you and My loved ones behind.

I feel like a broken clock.
I always want to move forward but I go 10 minutes back.
I hang on the white wall with red dots and tick to the beat of my dead heart.
When someone notices I am telling the wrong time they
Drop me in the box that
Is labeled

Rejects . . .

Then one day they take me out of the box
And hang me on the wall again.

Like a broken record they do this sick cycle again and
                                                                              again and
                                                                                      again and
                                                                                                   again . . .

Fireflies in a jar . . .
                         Camping by the fire . . .
Looking at the stars . . .
                          For all the world to admire . . .

All things found in nature
Are being destroyed for mans greed.
We believe that we own this world
But truly it belongs to me.

Two roads . . .
One side is light and the other
                                               is dark.

You, the reader, would naturally assume
That I chose the light path
Because the light exposes secrets and deception.
                                          
                                                But I am being guided by a fox . . .

He told me to go down the dark path
                                               And being me I was gullible and went with him.

D a r k . . .
           C o l d . . .
                      H a
                            n g
                                 i n g  T r e e . . .
                                           P
                                           l
                                           e
                                           a
                                           s
                                           e
               Help Me. . .        
                                                      Get Her Free . . .

Memory lane...
What a disastrous place to live.
Some wealthy mansions
And most lonely hobos in cardboard boxes.

Some grass is green
And some grass dried to death.
The lily pond is there
But gone in the same second.

I remember that lily pond...
I fell in it because you pushed me in.
What a beautiful memory right?
Two young kids without a care in the world.

But growing up changes people.
I was never keen on growing up because
That would mean to push away my
Childish soul.

You, dear friend, felt the same way.
Growing up felt like
The imprisonment of what was left of your
Careless ways.

I guess you wanted to be a child at heart
Forever.

I still look at that lily pond and wonder
"How can it be that deep?"
It was deep enough to hold you
And there was still room to hold me.

When you did it...
What did you see?

Did you see me riding my bike alongside you?
Did you see us dancing in the wheat by the farm?
Did you see Mr. Wilder yell at us when we did go in his field?
Did you see the night were you first told me how you felt?

If you are happy...
Then I am happy.
But I miss you old friend.

Memory lane is such a disastrous place to live
Because I can still see us jumping by the lily pond
And you pushing me in...

Howling and beckoning
The wind brought me to
A young woman standing in the tempest.
Hair like boughs but disintegrates in seconds
Her dandelion soul just out of reach.
When I grasp her hand she fades out of view.

Goodbye dear friend...

L  M  I  T  S  B  T  C  S  I  C  D  I   I  W    
a   e   n  h  a   y   h  o   o      a   r   n  t   a
y           e   n       e   a           n   i       s  v
                  d            s                f          e
                                t                 t          s

                                 Thank you...

I feel as if I am not writing these words.

I feel as if my hands are tied with strings
And my ghost is the puppeteer.

                    000
               00000000
            00000000000
          0000 R.I.P 0000
        0 THE SINNED 0
      00000 POET 000000
      00000000000000000
       0000000000000000
    1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1

I have been told of my pessimistic views
And told to lighten up and look for the best in life.

How can I do that when I only trust myself?
And for that, there is a reason
But that is not a tale for today

I am not reminiscing.

Sometimes when the ropes of
Betrayal is too tight
You find out who will be there
To tear it with their teeth
If needed.

I am the chained owl
Who will not take flight
Into the moon tonight.

These chains bound
So strong and tight
Break me under the pressure.

With all of my might
I pull the chains
But my little body is brittle

I might as well die under these chains.
No one cared about these scars anyway.
I am the unwise owl who can never take flight
Into the moonlight night.

When did I turn into the monster
That you see?

When did you begin to quiver
When I came near?

When did you call me the monster
Under your bed?

How unfortunate
You will not care when I am dead.

                             Am I really the monster that you see?

"Yeah"
"Ur not a drama queen"
"Actually ur the kind of
person that doesn't want drama"

                                                                       "yes thank god someone
                                                                        undersatnds!!! I just want to
                                                                        stand up for what I believe in
                                                                        and she just keeps on squishing
                                                                        me down. Well I am not going
                                                                        to take this is any more!"
"Whut r u gonna do"
                                                                        "I am just done being her friend.
                                                                        I thought that she was going to
                                                                        change but she has not so I am
                                                                        done. I dont need this in my
                                                                        life. I am so sick of being
                                                                        drowned in their ignorance. I
                                                                        know that she will not like this
                                                                        but i am going to be selfish for
                                                                        once in my life."
"Ohhh u do whuts right for u amy"
"I'll stand up for u"


                                   That last line melted my heart.

yeah
I just wish that they would stop pestering me to talk to her.
I said I would talk her out of it
but I don't need this stress on my life.
I take two steps forward and they keep on pulling me three steps back.
I am always one step behind them so
That I can never be better than them.

But if I leave her then she might actually do it.
What should I do?
It is literally breaking my heart in two.

The sun never shines
On even the best of days
Because of the house on Sixth Street
Stares at Auntie May.

She screams and cries
But no one hears
The fear her throat is trapping.
Maybe I should lend an ear.

Bumping and thumping
The house goes a rumpling.
I find it rather sparkling
But not my Auntie May.

She screams of the body behind the door
and the blood stains on the bedroom floor.
Poor Auntie May has been screaming for years
Of the monster that whispers in her ears.

Auntie May now sits in a trance.
She is as quiet as a mouse in a trap.
Poor Auntie May was sealed in her tomb.
Then I realized that the house did move.

I looked for it the next day
And found it by my Auntie Mays grave.
Curious I knocked on the door
And inside was horror galore.

Blood was on the floor like
Auntie May did say
But the body was gone
That she screamed about the other day.

On the chair by the door
I saw a figure sitting on the floor
and to my dismay, I looked at the figures face
And found it to be my old Auntie Mays.

The sun never shines
On even the best day
Because the house on Sixth Street
Scares little Olivia May.

broken hearts
broken dreams
broken plates
echoed screams...

no one can help me
not because i wont let them
but because they are not there
for me

it is okay though
i have adapted to the loneliness

"ur poems are such a
                  mood"
  
                                                                          "yay I guess"
                                                                          
                                                                          "some moods are perfect
                                                                          to write during because
                                                                          some people can find the
                                                                          truth during them."

I hope I have helped you, the reader, to see the truth. It does not matter what it
                                     is as long as you acknowledge it.

Darkness is my muse...
The nothing has a nice taste...
It stares coldly at something...
I can picture everything in its shadowed frame.

I fell into it...
That blank face...
You are my oblivion...
I love the ring to that name!

I was given a single rose
For some special occasion
A day of hearts and jubilation
It does not say who it is from alas
But that means someone must love me
For who I am!

Thank you to my admirer
For loving me
And if I knew you I am
Sure you would say the same!

I am a prey being cornered by my hunters.
If I reveal my secrets
They will spill my blood
And countless others.
But if I don't they will **** me
And still, find the others.

What should I do?