look out your window
the stars twinkle in the darkness, shining over the quiet night
i love you more than there are stars in the sky
the grass begins to sway in the little "wooshes" of the wind
there must be at least a million little blades of grass out there
and i love you more than that
the colors of the trees begin to change, giving beautiful hues of red, gold and orange
i love you more than the amount of leaves that will fall this autumn
my everything
my world
i love you

Congratulations,* I whisper,
feeling myself sink in my chair
further down, hoping nobody will notice.
My heart is pounding,
pumping the terrors
that run through my veins.
I don't necessarily understand,
though I know **** well
what's ahead of me.
Good Luck, is whispered back,
answering my acclaim.
*You'll need it.

I've forgotten how to write
the words
they used to flow onto my paper
one by one, they'd complete my work
full emerson into the world of poetry
no distractions
no drawbacks
just the purity, the innocence
of poetry

Stay calm my dear child
It's going to be okay
I can promise you here
so please don't go astray

You are here for a reason,
you are strong and courageous  
I never give up on
things that last ages

Panic no more
For I send out my love
Let peace lay on you
like the light on a dove

I am with you always
I've always told you that
Don't you ever forget
what I laid out flat.

The sparrow has turned into a hawk.
I will not apologize for learning how to fly,
but I will apologize for falling in the garden,
trampling over the orchids as I took flight.
How is the sparrow supposed to fly,
knowing she tore the orchids to shreds?

i'm hurt
you're hurting me
*and whatever

If I was good with words, where would I be?
Would I be in the position I am currently in?
Would I be better off?
Questions I've always had,
Answers never recieved.
Seriously though,
If I was good with words,
None of my messages would be interpreted wrong
None of my confrontations would end with the wrong impression
None of my presentations in class would consist of me babbling nonsense
And I would always know 100% that everything I said made sense,
because I'd be good with words.
Now, I know, People still may interpret things differently.
Someone might take my, "good worded phrase" and assume something else
I cannot change that, I know
But wouldn't that be cool if we could?
It would save hurt, and miscommunications
It would allow people to understand and move forward
It would bring about more happiness in the world, and that is something I truly care about
If I was good with words
I'd give someone the gift of happiness

Tired Eyes
stargazing at night
Cold breeze
moves swiftly by the queit home
Deep Breaths
taken in, to calm and conquer
Natural High
*received through natures beauty

I cry, laying here tonight
Listening to the pain of others
Her cries mirror mine.
Her cries, exceed mine.

I can't take that,
I'm so weak
Its been 3 months,
Why am I still so weak?

He was so intense
He was so extreme
Yet I can find similarities
In me, and, in the unspoken

I can't keep sheltering myself
from the pain and hurt
Yet, can't I enjoy being sheltered
for a little bit longer?

Is it because I'm worried?
Is it because I'm scared?
I just-it hurts...
I wish she knew it hurts...

You've changed...
I don't know when it started to happen,
but you have.
Its good for a couple days,
but other days, it hurts...
I should really have known.
I mean, it was bound to have happened.
I expected differently because of your initial response,
but I know, anyone in association can't be trusted.
I've been told that countless of times,
I never listened???
It's time I start learning my lessons.

I feel restless
My neck hurts,
My back aches,
I need to move
My desire to explore
My deaire for adventure
*I want summer

I'm fine
I'm really fine, definitely fine
Fine as fine could be
Never better! Not bad! I'm great,
I'm fabulous...I'm..fine....
im fine....

How did I get here?
     I've changed drastically since last year
Am I...a good person?
My mom once told my family
      I have been so good, for so long
                      It's only a matter of time
                        until they regret who I am.
Have I turned into the girl they regret?
Have I become the person they feared would come out?
       The person they feared I'd become?
If so, is it worth trying to fix?
         Because according to them,
                        *It was destined from the start

Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me*
Sure, that's a nice little saying,
but honestly...the truth?
Words can hurt.
Words can sometimes hurt more than actions,
or words can be a drive for actions to occur.
Seriously, just be respectful.
Take caution in the words you spill.
You don't know where those words will go,
or how far they will push.
You don't know how bad of a day they've had,
or how close they are to breaking.
I am not saying to censor entirely,
just-choose your words wisely,
for they are rarely ever forgotten.

I don't think people understand
Nobody does
No, I am not saying this in the typical teenager
Nobody understands me ahhh way
I just mean that, as the truth
Nobody understands what others are going through
The phrase I understand people take to a different level,
of believing that I've had this exact experience
When the truth is,
Nobody has had the exact same experience as anyone else
Why?
Because that's human nature, that's life
What bothers me more, is when people say
My experience is worse than yours
or
Oh that's bad, I'm sorry but this happened to me and this is why its worse than what you experienced
You have no idea what is going on in this persons head,
so how can you say that what you had happen is worse?
Even if you don't outright say this,
that's exactly the impression that it gives off
You don't have the right to say who's experience is worse
this person is hurting,
and trying to "one-up" their pain
is not going to ******* help
So if you go to say this
shut the **** up and sit the **** down
thanks.

One simple gesture,
that makes all problems go away,
Especially when they come from the one whom you love

Things can just...happen
Like, I don't mean for it to occur,
but it just, well, turns out that way-I guess
I would never purposely do these actions,
because I neither have the effort,
nor care enough, honestly,
But these things that occur
just happen to be extremely satisfying
Little things that make me smile,
Things that make me laugh
I guess you could say that with
Satisfaction, it just kinda
*happens

Rushing down the halls,
Grabbing the keys
Go.

Eyes burning, arms shaking,
Inability to concentrate on the road
Faster, ******.

He can barely breathe,
My little brown eyes
Hang in there buddy, come on.

Little body quivering,
Puppy eyes stare at me in fright
Its okay, lil' brown eyes, we love you.

Car slams on the breaks,
Doors rush open, full sprint inside
Stay with us boy, don't leave us.

Taken away, medically examined
Clock ticks by, slower..slower..
How long, How long does it take?

Doctors come and go
Paper work after paper work
I don't care, let me see my baby.

Little Puppy, comes back with delight
Medication given, and thankfully taken
You did it bud bud, you're still here.

Life is taken for granted
Once tugged at, we hold on tight
*We love you, patches, thank you for staying.

Music sings as a soft river flows
fingers gliding over the white keys
Through the chapel, elegant movements
echo the enchanting melodies

Light trickles through walls of rainbow
dazzling specs on the tile
They dance to the song of wonder and awe
not having to resist a smile

Imagination runs wild through the eyes of one
Picturing a beautiful sight
for the song and the colors reminded her
of the one whom she held so tight

Dreaming to dance to this graceful piece
Gliding across those aesthetic floors
She whispered to herself, finally believing
*That she never wanted nothing more

Slats
Salts
I have Salt
Salt Salt Salt
Salty Salt
*for Chem

had someone walk in
and you just freeze
because their stunning beauty
took your breath away...

Stop telling me the lies I know you spill,
Stop telling me the lies I once believed as truth.
Tell me what you mean, what you're objective is
because I don't understand.
What is the point in arguing a matter that won't change?
What is the point of constantly yelling about things that won't be fixed?
I'm not stopping what I do,
I'm not stopping my beliefs.
I am me, I can be me
meaning I have the power and capability to shut. you. down.
I don't because thats petty,
because thats not who I am.
I'm fun loving and free spirited [-to most]
Now I know, the statements above seem a bit contradicting
but maybe that's the point.
Like I said, I'm doing what I want and keeping what is okay for me to have.
Because in the end, *we'll see who's by my side

Only time will tell the confidence within,
the courage, the strength, behind the skin.
Near and far from the depths of the shadows
Breaking from underneath the grin.

Everything here are things that I chose,
Holding back, anything but the proper prose
Wearing down, and running thin,
Running away from those who appose.

The guy at the bus stop, seen every Saturday morning, carries the battered and broken guitar case. He doesn't know where he is going, he doesn't know what his life will be. He smiles and tips his hat at everyone walking by.
Little does everyone know the emptiness he feels inside. His hair, cut neat-His
outfit, perfectly put together. His smiles, so big and bright: they mask his true identity.
He gets on the bus as per usual, weekly traveling down to the local coffee shop with the rest of his family. The guitar half fits in the seat beside him, as he sits waiting for another day ahead of him.
He will go to the local shop, sit on that little brown stool in the corner, and pull out his one prised possession. Music isn't defined by society, music is interpreted by the beholder. And there he will play the day away, seeing the smiles on the faces of others. They walk in, grab a coffee, make small chit chat, and walk out taking on the day.
Occasionally, a few people will stop, complement the plucking of the strings. With this, he will reply excitedly, explaining the new piece he has been working on. Most will smile and nod, some talk a little longer, intrigued by the musicality.
Others go up to the store owner, his mother, and ask for his name, for they truly enjoy the music. Nobody ever asks him for his name, and he never knows why. Yet without a doubt, he always dreads the answer coming from behind the counter.
Her name is Scarlett, his mom replies.
He hides his face behind his pin straight black hair that flows down to his waist. He looks down at the red and white polka-dotted dress, sighs, and continues playing.
One Saturday afternoon, right before his family was to go home, an old lady came and asked his mom for the name of the beautiful guitar player in the corner.
He heard the usual response and stiffened. The old lady noticed this and walked over to the corner.
May I ask you, the old lady begins, What is your name
His eyes light up, then quickly faded. He cannot speak of himself in front his mother.
It's okay dear the lady whispers, I used to have a family like yours. They called me Mark, but my real name is Lacey. You will be yourself one day, I promise
His face lit up once again.
He finally found someone who understands.
My name is Sean, he replies, this time-with a true smile.

Sharp cool air blows through the brown wave
Air is taken in deeply,
Cold is felt all around,
but she is not cold.

The lights pierce the blue pools that fall one by one
Single sound of a breath,
The birds and bugs have silenced,
but her mind is not quiet.

Beautious ***** of fire stretch above the shingles
Miles above stretched forever
Wishing all the lights to go out
but she just stares