I walk through the streets. I watch the fights, the pickups, the undertone speaking, the voices, the laughter. I think, I think. What is happening to this world. I don't get it. Am I thee only one here with a mind and heart? My soul fills with thoughts, though I do not speak. No, for it's not my time. The voices of people. The voices roam towards me. I push back. People's words' have brought me down. Killed me. I will listen, yes. But I will not care. Only the voices of trust, honesty, and forgiveness will be thought of. The voices of you're mouth to my mind. The voices, the voices.

My life as a flower.
I shall wilt in fear.
I grow towards death.
I crumble the fastest.
I die by suicide,
not **** spray.

A day of laughter, excitement fills the air as the cupcake is delivered for that was all they could afford. Sizzling candles, each with a swirl of color, thirteen representing thirteen years of his day of birth. Sad that he shall grow up with little money, yet with a world of kindness, not greed. Happy day for him. A mother cries, as she looks in his eyes to see that he is a teenager, not her little baby. He now is only 7 years from adult hood. He is blessed with a heart of steel, a mind of hope, a graceful mind. "Thank you he says, but ma'am I wan't you to wish in light, and blow the dream to god, for he shall make true." "Oh, honey thank you." She blows out the candles with a tear now on the cupcake. She takes a bite... She smiles "Thank you. I love you" "I love you to ma!" They hug, they smile, they cry. "Happy birthday... I love you..." She whispers then slowly dies in his arms. He knew it, he cried, he forgave the secret she kept. "I love you to" A tear.

I wish to tell you of my past. There is just not enough words. I can't find the right word. Abused, teased, told, ordered. I... My mind is full of words. I can't explain. I wan't to scream. I am alone. I write that in almost every poem. Every poem is my past. Something I don't want to remember. Why must I write out my feelings. This is random. I am sorry. UGH. I have A.D.D. I scream randomly. I cry for no reason. I laugh from at mid sentence. I stutter. I shake, not as a joke, not as a word. I shake. My hands eating, sleeping, typing, reading, writing, everyday, for no reason. I am addicted to monster, coffee, milk. Hey I just realized I am typing my problems. I guess. Oh yeah I have night terrors not night mares, night horrors. My night terrors were terrible HA it's in the name. I would dream of shapes, each shape would have a power. Like a square would control time, and in that time he can ****. I know it sounds stupid. But if something is stupid enough that my eyes open as asleep, screaming -NOT JOKING- and be able to wake up everyone in the household. HA on my birthday do you wanna know what my sister made me, of coarse you do thats why you are reading this. Well she drew shapes with angry faces on them and she taped them on my wall -which I face when I sleep-... When I woke up I screamed and punched a hole in the wall which broke my hand. "Thanks Ash."-sarcasm- Well that was I don't know a while ago, so yeah.

My lackadaisical soul. Very depleted, stale, in which rome the damp, disconsolate rain. Soaking up my clothes, to divulge my skin. Thus laying  motionless, inert. I am drenched. I love it. Being solitary, alone. Better than lied to. I love observing; listening, watching. I am silent, bashful.

A day.
A pill.
A douse.
A new way.
Afraid.
A death.

Always looking.
A god.
A miracle.
A second chance.
A second life.
A halo.
A pair of wings.
A white wonderland.
A beauty.

A tear.
A brother.
A sister.
A mother.
A father.
A family.
A smile.
A laugh.
A happiness.

A cloud.
A rest.
A dream.
A death.
A tear.
A tragedy.
A commotion.
A smile.

A thanks to you.
A thanks to him.
A gift for me.
A gift for you.
A way to say, I miss you.