I have tasted happiness,
and nothing quite compares.
Once you have drank from it's waters,
there is no turning back.
For a long drawn out time,
Shadows of darkness had swept over me,
engulfing me.
Happiness penetrated those sentiments,
allowing rays of happiness in.
But these rays are fading as quickly as they came.
I long for them to stay,
long to rest in their comforting arms,
knowing that they are permanent fixtures.
But this is not true,
and they continue to fade,
and    s   l   o  w   l   y
D   I   E   S
A  
   W
             A  
                  Y

So much time had passed,
Since I last felt sorrow this deep.
So much time had passed,
Since I last felt it's intensity.
Why do my sorrows drown me?
And my joys elate me beyond belief?
Why must woes taste so bitter,
And happiness so sweet?
Recently my joys were all around me,
Surrounding me like rays of fresh sunlight.
Now darkness slithers into the deepest crevices,
And how I know it's misery.
I wish to feel the warm winds
Those that ride happiness,
A calming air.
But only a drizzle of tears will come.
It's droplets scorch my skin,
As they fall,
Wishing to bid them adieu,
I rub my cheeks.
sadness and I are old acquaintances,
leaving me as a victim of this relationship.

I am numb to such emotions.
I do not cry at funerals.
I do not feel sorry for the lost.
I can understand the sentiments buried on their face.
I can feel the pain they show,
but I do not feel it in my own heart.
But today I cried for a friends loss.
Something I have never done.
I wanted to help her,
to ease her suffering.
I did not cry because I felt her loss,
nor did I pity her.
I felt betrayed,
and selfishly mourned for myself.

Is there something I missed?
Was I wrong to believe our distance was not that large a gap?
Is that not the truth of the matter?
When did we begin to drift apart?
I'm used to being alone.
Loneliness and it's darkness is all that I've known,
But could the first rays of light,
only be an illusion?
I was so happy when I thought we were close.
I've never had someone as close as you,
so much so that I felt comfortable telling you any woe that might appear.
You are so special to me,
but Is this only one sided?
Like everything else?
Am I not a close friend to you as well?
I cannot feel your pain during this trial.
I'm numb to loss,
yet I see your tears,
and feel your broken heart by your expression.
I wanted you to lean on me,
the obligation I'm proud to have as your friend.
Are we not close?
Was I a fool to believe that you see me as a friend?
So many times I've been deceived by liars and cheats,
I was so happy just hanging out with you.
I've never known what it felt like to stroll a mall just acting like teens for once.
I'm sorry that I'm never good enough,
I'm sorry that I can't be your rock when you need stability.
I wish I could've helped.
I wanted more than anything to soothe your tears,
but I am not that in which I thought I was.

Why do I always feel excluded,
As though I'm worth only air?
I'm shy, that doesn't mean I have no interest.
Why do I feel left out,
when they won't invite me into their group?
When I work silently by myself,
No one willing to change this soundlessness.
I wish to speak up,
but my word's are trapped,
Whimsically working their way up,
wanting to say, "I want to help!"
Why do I feel so excluded?

Time holds with it many wonders,
Many mysteries yet to be solved.
It grasps answers and stats,
The evolution of exotic genes and habits.
But what does time have in store for someone like me?
Genes will never answer my questions,
One who has rarely seen her biological parents.
What wonders are devised to fulfill my hours,
What mystery awaits for one such as myself?
One who even Darwin himself could not classify.
Time mends all wounds,
But can time resurrect my lost soul?

How
How could someone
Wish to replace their past
Ridding themselves of an accident and unaware
Betrayal

Their corners hold secrets,
Darkness lingers in their depths,
Hiding them in vast thickets,
Making the most noticeable of them as quiet as slow breaths,  
What is beyond the mind's understanding.
She can't see these shadows,
Whose fluctuating contour is standing
In the obscurity that could belong in sideshows.
It's sepulchral aura haunts her,
Not knowing what  lurks beyond the mist,
That dwells in her mind, seemingly a blur.
Wishing that such thoughts would no longer persist,
Her deepest secrets,
Kept by the keeper of the clock,
Wanting to hold them locked within her caskets.
This is her own Pandora Box.

What aberration would cause:

Someone to attend to such foul play,
As the annihilation that would pause
a life, one filled with the air their being draws.

What aggravation could possibly stray,
A sound mind into transgressing a written clause
Of which all human life agreed to in our laws.

What Delusion would bring someone to slay
Another human being, meeting the jaws
-Of death, as their heart is transfixed by claws,

Seeking to steal their life, unafraid to disobey
And attempt to take away the life of a young fraus.
This crime can not be mended by gauze,

Instead, on the heart it will surely weigh,
Until it infects the perpetrator and gnaws
Picking on every grain, every haws,

Til it unravels and will portray
The nightmare within, the criminal withdraws
From their sanity, only to begin a constant stream of guffaws.

These thoughts of mine you see,
Are not mine to keep,
Hidden away under lock and key,
When read, they slither and creep,

Into the hearts of those who eyes have darted through the words,
This emotion I hide away is universal,
Everyone feels the same at a time i their life, from hero's to cowards.
They are prisoners of one mind, but put on repeat through rehearsal.
They echo through eternity, understood by all.
Unable to be contained, they dance through the heart, hoping to find lingering pieces to enthrall.
Only to pierce through, thrown like a dart.
This is how poet's can change your view,
or rap themselves around your heart, and now I wish you adieu.

First, we color life,
full of our shadows,
our life
Our every moment,
our every truth.
Next, we take away the obvious,
making the shadows show was is missing,
Then, make these into shapes of all sizes,
maybe enlarging one or two,
and maybe shrinking this or that.
That is the abstraction of our lives,
To show the meaning that hides behind that smile,
why we do what we do.
Maybe the motiff of your life;
is death,
maybe love.
Or Loss,
Or gain.
After the abstraction, what is left behind?
What do the shadows create in your life?

They reach their arms,
struggling to capture their aim.
The salty, tangy air laughs in wisps,
at their frustration,
as they throw themselves against the beach's shore.
The sand falls away as they are pulled apart,
unable to reach their goal.
The rambling of the rolling waves continue,
when they decide to try again.

Why do I speak out of turn?
Wy does my tongue despise me so?
It shoots out nonsense of which no one must suffer to.
Why do I write poetry for others to hear,
when my own voice is so unsure?
What right to I have to breathe life to these words,
when the courage to speak them is fading,
like the embers in a fireplace.
Why must I spout stupid ideas,
when no one shall ever like them?
Why must my mind be tainted with words that will just disappear into space?
Why am I so helpless?

I was once told,
That anything personal is also universal.
I am not alone.
My thoughts and feelings are not new occurrences but have been felt and thought before me.
You share my heart,
those who read my poems.
We can see eye to eye,
and yet we never met.
I read your heart as I read your poems.
and you read mine as you absorb my words.
But when you read my poems,
and if your taken with them,
a piece of your heart understands that I am writing feelings we share.
Not only are they shards of my heart,
but reflections of yours.
I bare my heart for you to see,
but rather than being separated by glass,
I hold your heart as well,
for you to come to realizations,
for you to better understand your self.
This is the purpose of poetry.
So not only is what I write deeply personal,
But humanly universal.

It's an unfair advantage,
Those who can hide away their feelings,
And drop them down the well.
Those whose feelings shine through even the darkest crevice,
They are hurt the most.
Why do we shed our tears,
When society looks upon us with a displeasing stare?
Why do we swallow our anger,
Shrug off our discomfort,
But drown in our tears.
Why do we honestly hold our feelings,
Before our worst fears?
And await the scoffing punishment
For baring our hearts
For all to see.

Rising to meet the sun,
A relative of the wind and time,
His branches reach out,
Stretching from his slumber.
The forest flames awaken fear,
Into the heartwood at his core,
He gives the thought a shake.
He would like to see the spring,
After the falling snow glazes the forest.
A resident of nature,
The Redwood withstands it all.

Love is a ship,
it will break and can drown you.
It can be repaired,
but the nails and boards will always show through.
It takes time to fix,
slowly mending but never quite the same.
Love is constantly changing,
The gentle stagnation of the repairs,
The gentle stagnation of two hearts as they understand one another.
Love is a ship,
It will break and can drown you,
but is can alter itself to the perspective of the world it dwells in.

A house is built for shelter and care,
Created from the Earth to bring stability into a home.
It is unwavering and sure.
...
Or is it really?
Years later,
will this house still stand?
Change is like a house,
it's foundation will crumble,
and with it the walls,
and with it the roof.
Can a home really be stable,
Created on such a basis?
Each good home falls,
and with it a family.
They will leave,
They will die.
The house will become unrecognizable.
And with it, The foundation will crumble.

Freedom is all she needs.

That tiny twirling Butterfly,
Whose wings could fly her all the way to the moon.
Gliding through the vast sky without a care.
She dances until noon,
Than disappears from sight.
Noontime mingles with the moon,
Allowing her to freely fly,
A beauty, such as herself, had once been merely a cocoon.
And before that, a caterpillar,
Wishing to be free, and sing a new tune.

Air escapes me.
My breath made short
By the evading water.
My sight, falls to the floating bubbles,
containing precious air.
My gaze follows them, wishing, wanting needing
The salty air had a time before seemed exotic and was welcomed.
Now,
It mocks me and burns at my throat.
Tangy winds are replaced
By salty fluid that invades my lungs.
My sight is blurred
as only
**darkness approaches

This heat pulsates through my veins,
rushing through my being.
A wind blows through my hair,
unable to retrieve the coolness in it's grasp.
Rather, it scorches the air instead.
A sip of fruity drink,
it's coolness washing away the heat that penetrated me.
This splash of mango re-animates a flushed cheek back to life.
This desert transitions into a tropical beach for one more moment...
and then, the heat
will rise again.

How much time has passed,
since you last spoke to me?
How much,
since I've last seen you?
The first in a long time,
that i've been able to hold a happy conversation with you,
where drama, nor yourself were completely on your mind.
How much do I need to beg,
in order to be in your life?
How much time will continue to pass,
until you realize that there's only one me,
and that no one can hurt me like you.
I wish for time to pause when you smile,
when your eyes glisten,
when life stops hating you.
But it slowly moves on,
giving you new griefs.
How much time will pass until your satisfied,
until you can truly smile once more.

Our world is filled with impermeable things,
your car will eventually break.
You will eventually grow older.
That is inevitable.
Death is inevitable, and so life is impermanent.
Our mind tricks us into believing that what lays before us will always be there.
Your friends who you trust and adore may not aways be your friends,
or if they are truly loyal,
they will one day die.
Your parents will wither with time
as the laws of nature steals those closest to you.
If our only savior is darkness,
than let sleep bring about a peaceful reality.

Why is it so unattainable?
Were you to play a piano,
it's beauty is in the melody,
not she who plays it's keys.
Were you an artist,
the beauty of the piece is created from your own hands after molding it into form.
Were you a dancer,
the beauty resides in the motions of the dance,
created from your own skills.
Were you a poet,
your pen forms the beauty word by word,
letter by letter.
So why is beauty so unattainable?
The truth is
**it is

'Awaken my creation'
A gentle whisper that resounds in a fog of dreams.
Slowly my heavy eyes open,
adjusting to the light.
Sitting in a chair I see another across from me.
'Is that Me?'
I wonder, unable to be sure.
Their eyes open too,
taking me in,
unsure what is reality.
Is this another dream?
"Who are you?"
Our voices call out in unison.
I stand up from this metal seat,
walking around the room.
"Where are we?"
Another voice joins mine.
"Where ..."
A nearby mirror confirms our fears.
"I am you."
"and I am you."
A body no longer human,
we are confined in suits of iron.
Our faces are comprised of nothing but a screen.
My eyes I sworn had open,
"Was that only an illusion?"
"Our memories?"
"Do we share them the same?"
Our past was one and the same,
copies of each other.
"Who is the original?"
Are we truly the same,
or one who became two new beings?
And what of humanity?
Who all is left,
our family,
our friends?
Are they out there,
do they exist,
or are they nothing but copies,
left to rot just above the ocean floor?

I shall become an artist,
your every truth defined.
Each perfect flaw,
each inch of movement painted on a canvas.
I shall become a photographer,
your every moment captured on my screen.
I will count every wonderful angle I can find,
your worst side made dazzling.
I will become a dancer,
and tell the story of your reality.
Each fleeting happiness or over pouring tear.
I will describe it in such a fondness through Jetés, leaps and Pirouettes that even sadness could only be mistaken for joy.
I shall become a poet,
who writes your every word,
lingering with an everlasting sympathy and beauty.
I shall spill my ink on the pages, telling of your sorrows and accomplishments.
I will immortalize you into everything you do, in every way I can. You will out live me in every masterpiece that you appear.
Be it a writer, photographer, dancer, or poet; you shall remain in all that you are.

hoping, wishing, dreaming, praying;
despite a variety of titles you can name it, the day I have been waiting for is within sight.
A desire held even since sixth grade,
that I could actually be a student of such a college.
A letter fluttered it's way to my doorstep, an acceptance to such a place.
Dancing on air,
I'm delighted that such a wish could be granted.
My intangible dreams are still hazy,
but the fog is starting to lift,
and I take a stride closer to my dreams.

They walk past it on the side walk,
sometimes they speak to it as though it still exists,
They see the dust of what it used to be,
and can feel the future that it will never have,
It had ambitions,
they no longer matter after the Earth took such luxuriances away.
The wind drags it into the night air,
where no one will see it.
It's shoes will be overflowing with the dust that was once flesh.
It's memories will carry on,
as those who had encountered it,
their memories deteriorate.
This is a future fretted over needlessly.
The idea that i am but a number,
one in billions.
one day i will disappear into the crowd,
my remains nothing more than a ghost of what I once once.

Drowning,
is that what this feels like?
suffocated by nothing but air,
duties to preform,
but nothing gets done.
working hard,
but blamed for getting no where.
something fun that went a-rye.
power mad authorities,
wishing for control.
chains refusing to allow,
this wasn't how it was meant to be.
Friends laughing and enjoying life,
not to be mesmerized by the numbers of unfair calculations.
Hard work that spiraled to the ground when that power wasn't enough.
No more titles,
no more 'authorities'
in this happy place I created we do what is enjoyed with those who share an interest.
Not in the budget,
than make it so, or just don't go.
We can have fun other ways.
Simple can be fun as long as no one corrupts us.
it was my creation,
but I am equal to those who come.
Money is not a priority,
power is not our undoing.
It was meant to be enjoyed,
and reminiscenced after these few years,
not the cause of agony and failure.

He had thrown a sledge hammer into my heart,
shattered fragments he had expected me to put back together.
He found someone prettier who he grew to have feelings for.
I admit I can miss his smile, his humor, and just who he was; but I recognized it was the past and moved on.
I glued the pieces in place, and moved onto a better future.
Someone new came along,
A short summer romance stirred.
Our conversations made me laugh endlessly,
our train of thought so similar in likeness.
it breathed some life back into my numb heart.
But just as a cherry blossom, it soon fell away.
His fingers pried at my newly mended glass,
they reached and pulled it apart at the seems.
Once again my heart broke,
but  this ache was not unexplored,
my tears refused to fall.
My ruined heart, how could anyone love you?
Could they ever see you as a lovely mosaic,
a creation of loving too deeply?

...
And so the cycle continues,
why does my heart
so easily love,
so easily trust,
is so easy to please?
why do I tell my thoughts to strangers,
making my feelings known?
It has only ended in heartbreak.
My heart crushed from love,
crushed from mistrust,
it's sorrow seeded to the farthest reaches of my heart.
Tears frequently overflowing,
yet I fall in love, and make new friends,
And then they leave,
only to become one with the cycle:
And so it continues
...

How could someone trust so easily, only for mistrust to grow,
how could my happiness sprout, only for the sapling to wither,
How could anyone laugh so much, be shown so much kindness, only for it to fall into deep sorrow,
how could anyone hide a lie so easily,
"I love you"'s that now fall on depth ears.
I thought you were special,
I thought we were happy,
so how could something so trivial pull us apart?
It was your decision, they can't rule your heart.
Why does my heart fall so easily, only to ever be crushed.
A summer's love is fleeting, and meaningless,
and so I have to say goodbye, after all, this is what you wanted.

A feud had been lit,
firing since the beginning.
I was never good enough for you,
and could easily be misplaced.
Had an event occurred, one in which I wished to invite you,
you would come up with a million other things that you had to do.
I know it's not your fault,
you never choose to ignore your own daughter,
yet as years passed our distance wavered.
Your getting married again?
How long will it last?
I have another recital coming up?
No one ever said you had to go.
I was aggravated,
frustrated,
enraged even.
How could a mother ignore her own kid?!
But it's not your fault, and it never would be.
I could never hate you for distancing us.
For lying to me and always breaking your promises.
Don't promise me a thing with twisted fingers hidden behind your back!
And yet It never will be your own doing.
A mental disorder halts you from caring,
is your reason for disappearing from my life,
gone without a trace.
I see you, yet I can't reach to you.
That day over text,
I thought my words reached you.
I hoped you understood that your presence in my life means the world to me.
Yet again, you disappeared.
apparently my voice fell short,
as it always will.
This is my reconciliation.
This is who you are,
and I cannot blame you,
but I will never again trust you.
I love you unfaltering,
but only from a distance.
This is how you taught me to care for you.

Shards of memories,
Fragments of myself.
Were I to lose these, could I ever by myself?
Each memory, each object in my life, each person I have encountered.
They have their story; a special place in my heart.
I could never bare parting with them, emptiness would envelope my mind.
If one day I awoke,
mind blank, and naive of myself,
the me now wouldn't be able  to even imagine;
life without my talents, these precious memories, the close relationships with my friends and family. If I lost these cherished moments that make life worth living, I would cease to exist.
If my reasons for happiness, sadness, shyness, and kindness disappeared; I would leave with them.

*If I ever lose my memories, I'd lose myself

Am I good enough as I am?
in my own heart, I want to believe that I'm intelligent,
a family of frauds and drop outs,
studies say I'll only ever be as smart as they are,
however, my report card is lined with A's,
while she didn't make it past 9th grade,
Did my environment save me from stupidity,
or am I a fool,
tricked by myself into thinking I'm something I'm not?
comparing our lives,
It's obvious I've made wiser decisions,
so why does science defy me?
Saying I'll only ever be as good as them?
Do the laws of scientific reasoning not apply to me,
or am I only deceiving myself, and what I can do?
which turned me into me?
Nature, or nurture?
or could it be a combination of the two?

The sakura petals, whose life spans are so short lived, begin to wilt,
and with their falling blossoms, my old love dies out,
it's flame, never again to be rekindled,
They wilt away as the breeze air carries them far from my loving tears,
he had found a new destiny,
a new love, whose petals beam a brighter shade of pink,
that wind only made me shiver in loneliness,
it's bitterness held by jealousy,
but than it brought with it a sweet sensation,
'I'm glad to see his sunny smile return'
even if another had cast it, at least he could find his own happiness once again,
farewell  my dearest love,
and may the your smile never again forsake you

Each Valentine's day,
as kindness blooms in the air,
and couples gather,
I write and draw valentines,
for friends, for family, for classmates,
and anyone who wants one,
Cards were given to those of importance of others,
by assistance of the school,
and given the title; Candy Grams,
These caring cards I've received a few times;
a couple from friends, and two whose authors are unknown,
The first appeared in eighth grade, a candy attached to the name:
From: your lost love
The second was given to me on this valentines day, my junior year stating:
From: cupid
tears overflow as I take in these cards,
their reasons various, as thoughts collide;
"I can't believe someone would give me this"
"some one must be pulling a prank on me"
"Maybe a teacher sent it to be nice"
so many possibilities, but one truth remains.
I'm so grateful someone would give me a candy gram.
and so, I hope everyone has an amazing valentines day!!!
<3 (//^//.//^//) <3
My favorite day of the year!

Maybe My Life was meant to be t
                                                               ­ h
                                                              ­         a
                                                               ­                 t
of a G
                  h
                         o
                                s
                             ­         t.
Forever wandering,
                


Empty corridors, intruding into their spaces.
M                                                        ­                                  .
y                            ­                                                      
cries  ech­oing into their acoustic cavern,
                                                         ­                  T
                                                               ­ h
                                                     e
                                           y
fade as I realize how alone I really am,                                  .
M                         ­                                                                 ­                      .
y                                        ­                                                                
         Invisibility confines me to                myself, -----------------------------
                 Hides                                        
        me                        from
Their                 eyes.
          Filled           with hatred.
             I was             always alone,
                    from the day,         my calendars first flipped
                         A                                                                ­                       Not
                         kind                                                             ­     everything
                                warm family,               is as it seems                   .
                              A wave goodbye            as dad takes off in his truck,
seeing new sights and adventures,          without any thought to those   who                         are left behind,
                   A mom who's tried           so  much,                                                          
that her remarks                            and smiles seem to fade away.
a little sister hurt from torture,                      and beheaded by harsh words that seethe                                              as poisonous as venom
A birth family                   far from loving
friends that constantly leave,              who are as precious as gold,
but abruptly              disappear,
"everything will fade away, it will all disappear,
until
          only
                        I
       ­                           am
                                   ­             left,
To wander empty spaces for eternity.

Fear prickles down my spine,
slithering it's way into my farthest reaches,
what will become of me?
If her words sting, as though time has lengthened each spite,
If the stage is busy, but without a crowd to watch?
What will become of me, if they ever find their way to me?
If art and music are no longer my only remedy,
What will become of me,
when I can only be surrounded by shadows and shards from long ago?
tears cease to fall, and all I am is numb.
What will become of me,
If I can meet new smiling faces once more?
If laughter surrounds the halls instead of evil cackles.
What will become of me years later, when my world renews itself?

Isn't a ballerina supposed to be graceful, dainty, and special?
Isn't their something gorgeous in her steps?
Even a jazz dancer has beauty,
Dance is grace,
dance is beauty,
all wrapped into movement,
I am a dancer;
I've taken ballet and jazz,
I love to dance,
but ...
I'm a dancer you can't trust around glass or fragile trinkets,
A dancer who crashes into tables and chairs,
a dancer whose very name means grace,
but when the curtains are closed and the dance has ended;
I'm the clumsiest girl you will probably ever meet.

The cliff overlooks the sea,
it's breeze rolls over the flowers that set on the mountainside,
A girl sits on the cliff's ledge,
dropping her feet and swinging them to the melody of the wind,
This Is Her Happy Place,
But on rough, stormy, days
she sits in a room,
huddled against the corner,
unsure wether tears will spout,
or if she will shake in fear,
shouting words ring in her ears,
lingering in her mind,
What had happened?
Even she didn't know.
Think back to that sunny day,
when the blossoming flowers
sent sweet aromas rising into the tangy, salty air,
think back to that lush day,
where trees maneuvered on the mountainside,
over the path leading to a far distanced paradise.
A sunny, breezy, happy day that covers every scream,
covers every tear,
A fake smile that was created as an illusion.

Has my sorrows left,
as I thought they had,
or could my tears be revived?
Though these may have regenerated,
my feelings for him are long gone,
or so I believe them to be.
When he returns, how will time pass,
as it is now,
or will love blossom once again?

None of these memories are formed through myself,
They are re-enacted by another me,
The past moves with time as I'm trapped here,
re-living, yet far removed from this time,
It's not me, but my shadow,
I'm not included in my own darkness,
are they truly mine,
or just scenes to be replayed in another dimension.