Daffodils stand tall in the midday sun,
Though crumble under the moonlit sky.
Each petal falls one by one,
forcing the gardener to pick up and rectify.

Through the glass I look,
the window that divides.
I see the beauty of the sparkling rivers,
the bright and cheerful flowers,
and the colorful leaves as they fall from the tree.
I hear the notes of the birds
as they tell a story through their graceful song.
The crack in the window brings in the comforting smell of
the fresh, crisp outdoors.
All this divided by a piece of glass,
A glass that lets me see, lets me hear,
but keeps me away.

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

I love the trees
Mountains filled with snow
Icicles hang off the roof
Snowmen are built
Snazzy lights put everywhere
Yuletide is made gay
Opening presents before the light of day
Unwrapping happiness and love

I can't take back what I said.
I can't travel back in time to reverse the outcome.
I can't magically make everything perfect.

I can sit here, and wait.
I can get up, and move on.
I can switch back and forth, never finalizing a decision.

I can't choose,
I can't know what the future holds,
I can't forget.

I can keep asking,
I can keep clarifying.
I can stay.

Can't I?

Just wait for it
She continues to say,
words of wisdom
pouring from her mouth.

You'll see, I promise
I don't quite believe,
but she studies this,
therefore it must be correct?

Time will tell
Time will tell what?
I'm very curious
to see if your prediction is true

Its funny, how things change so quickly
I see no change,
I am still confused, but
something must be different

Is something different?*
I'm actually not sure
Are you?

is to listen.
To be here and there.
In the wind,
As it spirals around.

is to be patient.
To stay put.
In the line,
As it moves forever.

is to forget.
To walk away.
In the confusion,
As it builds more.

is to see.
To observe.
In the community,
As it crumbles down.

is to stop.
To glace.
In the thought,
As it whirls whenever.

is to be.
To exist.
In the sadness,
As it eternally soars.

I feel like I lost,
You won.
I was winning,
What happened?
I was finally in control,
or was I?
It's all a hoax,
because I'm confused.
I'm making everything up,
everything does't have to be this confusing.
It's me.
I am the problem.
The only way to fix that,
is to have me go.
Everyone would be better off,
In the end at least.
I know it,
I'm sure.

Shoved to the ground,
Elbow to the arm,
Ball to the face.
Visable bruises form, sore to the touch.

Screaming through the wall,
Ignorance of the people,
Suffication of the culprit.
Mental bruises form, sore to the mind.

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?

Don't let the Music within you Fade*
Don't let the music within you stop.
I will be here with my guitar,
ready keep your music going.

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.

It's the same thing.
How did I not see this before?
Mmm, Interesting.

I say the puzzle pieces click,
I lie.

They don't all fit together, just yet.
They will eventually, I do believe.
They come together, one at a time.
I ponder, I realize, I reflect.

Yet, nothing becomes of these thoughts,
I keep them to myself.
Because they are not worth knowing,
to someone who wouldn't understand.

You must figure it out on your own.
I was told these things, I didn't believe.
A puzzle piece was placed, I saw, I knew.

One by one, I shall figure it out.
But for now as I wait,
I enjoy the game.

We call the outcasts, to stitch these wounds together in our beautiful remains.
Children surrender knives and pens,
they give up their perfect weapon.
The mortitians daughter, carolyn, brings up all your hate.
Fire rages in irony as it is heaven's calling.
No matter how tough times may be, never give in, never back down.
This is our sweet blasphemy.

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

Don't give me hope
When you know there is none.
I do that too much already,
I don't need anyone else telling me too.

It's okay, not to be okay

Learning this phrase, not to long ago,
has given me a false sense of reality.

It is? Oh, Is this what this feeling is?

Never noticed, never classified,
moved on, and pushed aside.

I guess I'm not okay*

Now I know, and Now I can say
Rather than pushing my thoughts away.

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 thought I grasped it.
I repeated, "I'm free"
Yet I failed to catch the meaning.
Free should be open,
Free should be closed with the past,
Free should be me,
So why arent I?
I thought I could let go.
I thought It was smart.
People told me it was, i believed them.
I regretted it from the moment I saw you next.
But it's okay,
I know you have moved on.
So it is my time, too.
Time to get up,
shake off the dust,
and live on.

I travel through the maze,
never knowing where to turn.

I think in my mind,
the paths traveled before,
so I know which way to avoid.

My heart beats with fear,
Anxiety pushes on my chest with all its force.

I can't turn, I can't move.
The element of surprise,
Showing up at any moment.

I can't handle.
I'm terrified.

Every bend I come across,
every slight indication,
I panic.

I can't help it,
*That's me

The robin sings outside the window,
the beautiful song of grace.

The shade is opened to watch the birds fly by,
traveling south, and high in the sky.

The leaves are changing to an orange red,
as the air gets crisp and cold.

The clouds roll by,
giving sun and shade where needed.

The robin's voice fades away,
as she flies high with the others.

I need some assistance to find my way,
though I don't know where my destination is.
I wish I understood what was going on,
I really don't.
Sometimes I'm fine,
Sometimes I'm super happy and free,
Other times?
Y'all don't want to know.
I'm exhausted,
I'm tired of those times.
Why can't it be over?

Sixteenth Note.
Hard to keep up with, Hard to understand.
Can be played only by some, those with experience.

Whole Note.*
Keeps everything together, all in one.
Everyone can play, but doesn't take away from it's worth.

It's a feeling like no other.
To think, of one.
An invigorating rush travels up from the stomach.
Burning ball of adrenaline.
Only lasts a short second,
leaves me breathless.
It's painfully delightful.

*My red eyes glow, searching for it's desires.
Shadows haunt behind me, warning of the hatred.
The red never goes away.
Fiery hot ruby tears may drain the color,
but the aspiration never goes away.
The desire can paint back what was drained,
and let the greed live on.

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.

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

I'm writing out my story from start to finish,
I'm not quite sure where to start.
Everything flows out like a waterfall over a cliff,
pulling the strings and tearing my heart.

The buildup of stories have occurred over time,
and not one person knows the entire truth.
I wish I knew myself sometimes,
because everything is slowly breaking my youth.

The innocence I once had, is long gone now.
I've seen and heard too much.
Oh how I wish I could go back,
to when life was solely soft to touch.

I complain about plenty,
though sometimes I don't know what.
It's just nice to let out,
the feelings I keep shut.

For stories have conformed,
the me I am today.
Eventually I won't know,
the me that's got away.

*I have changed.

All the answers desired,
no answers given.

Questions wanted to be asked,
No courage to ask them.

Forever wondering,
Forever waiting,
In curiosity.

I'm the only one.
Nobody sees through my blurry eyes.
Nobody understands the thoughts that ramble in my head, because there is one me.
I cry because I have the energy to do nothing else,
and when that energy runs out,
I'm left dark and empty.
Just tell me why
because then maybe I'd understand.
Tell me why I'm the only one that believes?

Can't this just, stop?
I laugh now because there is nothing else to do.

There is a saying that goes
Every decision you have made, leads you to this moment

People stretch this to be more magical than it really is.
But if you really think about it,

That morning I was deciding to have a pop-****, or no breakfast.
I chose pop-****.
What if I ate no breakfast-where would I be today?

It's a silly concept, and a lot of people won't truly get what I'm saying
but what ifs always get me

What if I didn't go...
What if I didn't want...
What if I didn't hear...

Caught up in the what if's instead of the what can's

just say the words, ******
come on, you don't have all day
(whispers) I-I-.....
******, they didn't even hear you try
The action races through my head,
the possibilities are endless.
Can't I just text them, Won't that be easier??
No, Sam, no. you have to do this in person
"I am...."
they still didn't hear you, you were always too quiet
come on, you had enough strength the first time
little bit more, you got this
"I* am..."
say it, look they stopped talking for you
come on, now you made it more awkward
"Are you okay?"
"Oh What? Silly me, yes of course I am fine. I just wanted to tell you something"
nice save? not really, now you have their full attention
"Okay, I'm here, what is it?"
****** ****** ****** I can't do this nope nope nope
breathe, you got this
why is this so hard? I've done this before
oh my god are you actually doing this
is this a good idea
run, run as fast as possible back to the closet
NO GOD ****** SAM JUST SAY IT
"I'm gay, not straight. Well, maybe I'm bisexual, I'm not sure yet."
what the **** was that
oh god what do they think of me
silence...silence not good NOT GOOD
and um you identify as biromantic homosexual, but sure close enough
STILL SILENCE SAY SOMETHING
"Oh! I wasn't expecting that, but okay! Whomever you love is fine with me"
"I-uh-um-Thank you so much, you have no idea what this means to me....
I'm rambling
I can't stop myself from going on
what am I even saying anymore?
oh god I can't stop shaking
it's okay, they accept you, you're fine
or am I fine
Do they actually accept me?
How do I know the truth?
SHHHHH JUST STOP SAM YOUR FINE GOD
...and so basically Thank you so much again."
silence again, I said too much
I'm just going to stop talking....
...and thinking
they can do the rest of the work
*because in reality, that was **** exhausting

Not a big number physically
Not a big number mentally

But emotionally
*it means a whole ******* lot

Poetry is an escape from the reality,
Poetry is a way to let out all emotions.
*I've escaped from reality for too long.

The burning fire returns
as it blazes in the darkness
Roaring over the howling wind
sweltering the anger within

Ardent eyes glow in the night
like the hard amber stone
which captures the light
forever in its golden shell

Forever is not forgotten
it continues to burn with rage
seeing the flash, continuing to spark.
The burning fire stays.