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.

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.

I wanted to write a poem,
In which I captured your very essence in nature,
to personify all that you are,
by using the most gorgeous of things.
But instead I came to realize something.
You are the very essence of Autumn.
Your smile glows as brightly as the moon when all else appears dark,
It's a time of childlike awe and wonder,
a cheerful season whose very existence is based on fun.
The colorful leaves sigh your name as they float to the earth,
their dazzling colors shaping a happy atmosphere,
wishing to go with a bang of color,
the star of the show before winter rolls around.
You can hear the crowds murmuring their adoration for the trees,
For the light breezes you enjoy,
Before the snow begins to fall,
and the world turns cold.
And so I had wanted to write a poem,
one where I captured your very essence in nature,
by using the most gorgeous of creations.
But instead I came to find that,
You are the very essence of Autumn.

Which do you prefer?
Sour or sweet?
Sweet of course,
It reminds me of kind words,
that I wish would've been spoken,
of every time i was helped,
the sweetness in their hearts,
Which do you prefer?
blue or pink?
though it's called boyish,
blue is my adored color,
It sits in the sky watching,
observing,
the day pass by,
It's a solitary color,
but has the smallest hint of a smile,
Even so,
it's such a lonely color.
Pink is happy and kind,
it sings from above,
easily talking to other colors,
I admire it,
but could never care for such a color.
Which do you prefer?
Sunrises or sunsets?
sunsets are my choice,
they end the day,
as every thing will eventually come to it's own end,
It sits on the hill,
a beautiful lonely sight,
it waves goodbye to everyone as they go about their life,
Sunrises are happy, hyper colors,
that pierce the night with a call,
waking up friends and neighbors,
so that they may see the sun,
such a talkative and friendly sight,
I admire, but can't care for.
So now I ask you;
Which do you prefer?

Looking into the mirror,
few will see me as I am.
Few could understand - or want to understand,
who I really am.
They see the shy quite girl,
concentrating on my tasks,
who rarely talks,
or looks like she should be left alone.
That's not to say I deny it a part of me.
Who you see is a true part of me - not an act to be put on display,
But the face reflected in the mirror ...
Is someone few would want to meet.
She talks too much,
asks too many deep questions,
and will continue to question the universe and past throughout the late hours of the night - my thinking time.
I laugh over the slightest of things,
sings loudly and terribly to music.
My reflection shows a contradicting side of myself,
someone who I'm terrified will frighten everyone away.
In this fading world,
everyone will disappear from my side.
Or so I used to fear.
The echoes of my mind scream things that could drive anyone to insanity.
I'm not good enough,
I deserve to be alone,
I'm a terrible person.
The list continues.
The never ending stream building into a void within my thoughts.
That is my reflection.

If I could draw a million dangos,
I would.
But I'd prefer to draw you.
It seems to be almost an obsession.
An impulse I need to tame.
Drawing how your hat sits across your ashen hair,
And your lips part in the sweetest smile.
Even sorrow suits you well,
As I wish to relieve you from your pain.
Such a kind soul should be drawn at least once,
Set in eternity through paper and ink.
If I could draw a million dangos I would,
But I'd prefer to draw you,
Time and time again.

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.

Wisdom speaks in voices unheard,
It falls upon death ears,
and a mournful conscious.
When spoken few take the advice handed to them on a silver platter,
nor do they realize the pearls hidden within crisp, thoughtful words.
Heed advice that may fight at your side.
When stress and anxiety's rise
find comfort in those around you,
those who seek to save you from your own demise.
And yet, you will not listen.
You will continue you fail and cannot save yourself nor those you drag deeper down into your own tragedy.
How selfish you are.
Yet it is not your fault.
No, it will never be.
Because this advice can only ever fall upon death ears.

I swear my thoughts are out flying on a cloud,
Watching the leaves plummet to the ground.
Dancing before fall turns to winter.
Their colors match my vivid heart,
So full of happiness.
It sings the notes,
Creating a chorus,
To fit the choreography of the leaves.

This force that impacts our daily lives,
now awakens to keep me stirring.
It causes the brain extra aggravation,
and the mind a restless night.

We clash,
creating the rub of two minds,
to never fully comprehend the other.
Our mind's gears pulling in different directions,
the speed set at different intervals.

If friction tears us apart,
than why must we get along,
what glue could hold us tight,
keeping this crumbling friendship alive?

That of family bonds,
Tis only an obligation!
What must I do so that they are not disappointed in me?
How can we mend this shattering trust and love?

Such a small delicate being,
so easily does it wilt,
taking all of it's life,
and sipping it through it's intertwining roots,
once plucked,
it withers into a dark, shut off, decaying mass,
it's life is too easily finished,
Though small,
their voices are loud,
in the form of vivid scents,
spiraling sensations through passer-by's noses,
they take what nutrients are given,
and create a life for themselves,
A flower was given,
from a kind heart,
only to die within moments,
Her voice fades away,
as weeds tug at her throat,
not a word that can be heard anymore,
when uprooted,
give a flower sunlight water,
sing sweet words into her ears,
she'll grow,
stretching towards the sky,
but cut off her  roots,
and she'll never bloom again,
Such a strong flower,
but too easily cut off

I saw something new,
flickering within you.
I felt something new,
Slowly burning within me.
That time he called me sweet-cheeks,
and you got so defensive,
to the point of holding me protectively.
Your embarrassingly cute questions,
over whether or not flirting with party members,
is something D & D could allow.
Just sitting beside you,
drives my mind wild,
and our conversations speed my heart rate.
The time we shared during our first slow dance,
The dance recital you ventured to with me,
all these little glimmers of happiness,
I'll keep tucked away.
In a special box overflowing with joy.

I have a soft heart.
Not in the way of kindness,
Nor angelicness,
Because I do not believe I am either.
But in the way that it is fragile,
Easily maimed and torn.
But it's also easily delighted and embarrassed.
You cause my soft heart to leap and bound,
Singing towards the sky.
My soft heart has little experiance,
And you,
Being the adorable cuddly one you are,
Cause my heart to take flight,
My soul flying with it.
My mind then leaves its quarters,
As my thoughts roll out the window.
And I am left in a happy daze,
Wondering if I'll ever wake from this dream.

The night moon gleamed upon the Earth,
It had created the tides,
and smiles of young children.
But now there is no such thing,
looking over us on these moonless nights.
there remains only a slim smile,
that left over after the attack,
a warning shot.

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?

Am I only in love with the idea of romance?
Am I not truely puzzled over feelings fueled by you?
That doesn't seem to fit.
When I see you,
I don't image the future,
or what could await.
Instead I hold onto your smile,
and the way your cheerfulness lights up a room.
If only the concept of romance was enough,
wouldn't dating sims and manga suffice?
But instead I look to your kind and sweet personality,
and the way you care about your friends.
Your looks could mean less,
But it's your personality that I hold so dear.
So no,
I do not believe I have fallen for you only to fall for someone,
but because you are you.

I didn't believe they would reappear,
I never thought these feelings could confuse me so much.
Do I?
Do I not?
I'm so uncertain.
I thought I couldn't get over the past pain of rejection,
I thought moving on would take more time,
but could my heart be wavering to someone new,
Or am I just confusing myself further?

...
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
...

Smooth, gentle, kind caresses,
passion, desire, love,
Why do you crave me?
Why would anyone be driven mad by me?
I am simply me.
Plain, ugly, bothersome.
And yet you treat me as though I have value.
I am blinded,
unable to see any worth within myself,
so how can you see any?
How can you hug me as if the world might end?
How can you stand the sight of my tummy,
covered in stretch marks and fat,
squishy and disgusting under your touch.
Yet you call it a soft cloud,
as if you've never felt anything as comforting.
I am grotesque.
I despise my body,
I hate my looks,
and the terrible personality that follows.
How can you see light,
where all I know is shadow?
How could you love me,
how could you care for my flaws?
This leaves me hollowed in confusion.

I like them,
I don't like them.
Their a good friend,
Could they be a little more than that?
Ah,
the petals of a daisy,
could never solve my hearts dispute.

I was Only five years old,
The world wasn't a fun place to play,
I wouldn't run  around,
I refused to smile,
Adults were harsh,
but children were worse,
I was more grown up than those around me,
I was sad,
lonely,
hated,
broken,
My smile was crooked,
my eyes were full of tears,
My stuffed animals were my only friends,
and my class,
the enemies,
I sat alone,
talked to no one,
There stares penetrated my heart,
their laughs were sharp and pointed,
arrows ready to fire,
I was told I was an unwanted burden,
a child without a future,
a nuisance,
I
knew
every
one
would
disappear,
especially me,
A terrified girl by age five.

I'm terrified,
not of you nor the things you do,
but of myself.
I'm scared of how I'll react,
Of awakening my inner demons.
That their influence will overtake me,
And I will fall as they did.
For the daughter of monsters could only be a monster herself
a cursed bloodline
You tell me time and time again, "Your not them"
"You didn't make their mistakes."
I was their mistake.
How can I be told that I'm not them,
when I can so clearly see the influence.
I see it in my hair's curly strands,
In my quiet eyes that hold back tears,
In my own talents and interests.
Their blood radiates through me.
"Your so much like me babygirl"
spirals through my head whenever she sees me.
I'm so much like them.
I have his chubbiness,
Her ****** features,
Their penmanship even looks like mine.
I have her temper,
His intelligence,
... So how?
How can I ever escape these demons  who loom around me?
I'm so much like them,
I'm so scared of finding their faults within myself.

Glowing red,
Myface heated,
As I try to be myself,
Thigh high stockings,
A mini skirt,
Corset pulled over,
And the piece of resistance,
A small black choker.
But oh,
My face,
My real skin on,
Showing true,
On goes a sweatshirt,
I can't do this yet.

My loved one,
I know you care,
that your heartbeat beats as one with mine,
a resonating sound,
A tuning fork that hums in the same rhythm as mine.
There are days when we're so alike,
so connected,
and all I want to do is to burst from smiling.
But why do these emotions taint these happy thoughts?
Why must I be so insecure?
So afraid that you'll fade from sight?
As though I'm happier at seeing you,
than you could ever be to see me?
Not that I could blame you,
Not that I don't understand.
I'm not someone people should get attached to.
My sweet,
these insecurities are rooted in a friendship I've made long ago,

Loneliness is my friend,
and with it no one else will come.
Or if they do,
It is nothing more than a brief encounter,
for I am invisible,
and any friends that I meet will surely leave me.
And yet by saying so,
I feel as though I'm underestimating my friends.
That's not the case,
Its just all I have ever known -
The covers of loneliness I have lived in,
Who else has comforted me as much as solitude?
Who was there on those days when I wondered the darkness at recess,
When words were said,
bullets fired from their mouths,
And I, a transparent apparition,
could do nothing but exist without truely living.
Loneliness was by my side,
whispering how it will always stay by my side.
Conditioning me to trust him.
Earning my loyalty,
that will not easily fade no matter how much I wish.
Nothing in this world is permanent.
I will wither and die,
much like you who hear these words.
You cannot possibly say that you can stay by my side.
Everyone else has faded from my life,
These new friends are sure to either hate the real me,
or move on with their daily lives,
I,
a passing existence.
A number,
in the multitude of masses of souls drifting through this world.

Why can't I trust these feelings?
That everything will be fine?
Why can't I hope that things will for once work out?
I know I'm childish,
to hold onto the ground when I could be soaring in the air,
but I need a safety net.
I need to make sure that I won't get hurt.
I've tasted unrequited love once before,
and oh how bittersweet it was.
It followed me for years,
and only now has faded.
So please allow me to keep this secret,
to not let the flames ignite.
Once that happens,
all stability will be lost.

All I had ever seen was pitch darkness.
There was no light,
no conture.
Nothing.
Just blackness.
I had no hopes,
no dreams,
no aspirations.
I was just ... there.
But a light dwelled within my very soul,
it grew each day.
Shining brighter than the last.
Until it became powerful enough that it needed to escape the darkness.
And so I let it leave.
I lifted my finger and began to trace,
shapes and images first.
The light would seep through my finger,
creating the image before vanishing.
I continued,
it filled my days with more than bleak nothingness,
and soon I fell in love with this.
I drew anything and everything,
I write poems, and stories that lasted for mere seconds.
I began to want more than the darkness and wished to escape.
It's shadows heard my soul's plea.
Working to drown me from my desire,
It only grew and manifested more and more.
Sick of my prison,
I tore through the darkness,
seeking the light.
There I found a world in which my creations could last an eternity.

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.

I'm fearful,
I'm shy,
a church mouse as someone once put it.
A quiet being waiting for my life to appear before my eyes.
I take no risks.
I play it safe.
And yet ....
My reflection shows another side.
Do you see it?
The outgoing me whose too loud,
speaks too much,
and likes to laugh and joke around?
She exists.
There was a time she showed herself more often,
and perhaps she will again.
But for now,
the quiet reflection gazes back.

When we think of a broken heart,
We believe the pieces must have been shattered by a crush or ex.
What of the mother who was never there for you?
Who brings new drama into light with the passing of each day?
What of the days she promises to see you dance,
but when the curtains rise,
she's no where to be seen?
The mother who gave a teenager Winnie the Poo toys,
And refuses to listen to your advice
because you'll aways only be her babygirl
but not really .. because she'll never drop what she's doing to see you.
But not truly because you are not her sun,
nor are you of importance to her.
You are simply the product of a bad night with the wrong person.
That invisible daughter who lives somewhere else.
She will never drive over to see you,
It will be on her terms,
or never.
But that's fine.
Your used to it.
Loneliness is how you grew up.
Floating in a bubble of love from your adoptive parents,
who though they try their hardness,
can never fill the empty space your mother made when she left you.
And that's life.
It can be disappointing and cruel.
You just need to keep walking and be okay.
'Sweeping life under the rug'
Until you can't fit any more under,
and your covered heart must react,
and so you take it out on those around you.
A sister who loved you and cares for you,
thrown to the ground.
Hurting those who you would never want to,
Until it eats you alive to the point of seeking help.
And yet, she will never change.
Broken hearts can come from broken families.

Children of the lost,
you shall gather by my side,
hear these words for you.
The lost will reman lost,
their hope is forever gone.
Darkness has overcome their light,
and they will never seek it again.
You hold within you a beacon,
a chance bestowed upon only you,
use their darkness to lead yourself to the light,
learn from their mistakes.
You are not a monster,
nor empty screams fated to never be heard.
I find myself stuck within the realms of my own darkness,
but find light in this and travel to safety.
For it is something only you may do.

The moon shimmered,
a light at the bottom of a dark pool.
It's darkness lingered,
shallowing the nearby objects,
blurring them as it gorged on it's late night snack.
The trees bent towards the path,
Some branches being illuminated,
some already a part of the feast.
The wind caressed her hair,
as she made her way home in the dim lamp light.
A cold fall night had captured her interest.

The Eiffel Tower, Mona Lisa, American Gothic, Old Cathedrals.
Were you given the opportunity,
you you visit these?
The Giant Bean in Chicago, Central Park, empty Insane Asylums renovated?
Most people would leap for the chance to see these in person.
They are kept well protected if not renovated.
What about a dying city,
where no one sees it's treasures?
An unused park,
beautiful but becoming emptier as the days go by with a vast space in the middle of a bustling city.
What about houses that are decorated, and painted in every hue?
Saving a neighborhood corrupted and invaded.
Here a house was fated to go up in flames,
rather than adored for the artist's creation.
Broken buildings, missing trains, amphitheaters vast but abandoned other than by the homeless.
Beautiful sights all of these - an obvious advantage for any city.
But no, tis not so.
Instead they go unnoticed and uncared for in a city who cares only about 'ruin ****'.
The destruction of once great artworks.

Optimal Illusion
I wish that's all she could ever be.
A ghost,
Haunting me for a time,
but eventually the fear would dissipate,
Were I to be born of their flesh and blood,
were I their biology,
could I be happier?
Would this shadow in my mind disappear and happiness take root?
This constant fear,
lingering,
telling me I'm broken,
that there's something wrong with me.
My own demons hold little against me
and yet I take their lies and truths,
turning from them as they wave their daggers,
allowing my heart to be shred.
Spewing forth lies such as,
"I deserve this"
or
"I'll never be good enough"
I allowing my own pain.
I am unwelcome,
Unwanted,
all alone.
Or so I have always believed.
But could there be a future where all my sadness was only that,
An "optimal Illusion"?

Words won't flood forth,
nor tell what my heart truely says,
How often do I think of you,
how often do I wish to see you,
and to be able to tell you,
that time we spend together is the best part of my day.
That I await such moments anxiously.
But my heart quivers at saying such words,
and grow more and more nervous.
I question everything I do or say,
until I remain quiet.
Hidden in a shield of shyness,
When inside I'm dying of happiness,
just standing next to you.

"Heaven is the place,
Where you think of nowhere else"
Oh? Is that so?
Then that playground,
When I was a hurting child,
Swinging to dismiss reality,
Letting my feet rise to the sky,
And with it my worries fall,
Those swings became my nirvana,
A safe haven from the pain.

How I despise this feeling,
this longing,
this greediness.
Your every word feeds my emotions,
sending me into a happy daze,
or fitful tears.
I long for nothing but to spend time with you,
and this busy week that pulls you from me effects me more than I'd like to say.
I despise this consumption of your time,
this need to be with you,
the desire to have you to myself.
I realize you have a life to lead,
and want for you what makes you happy ...
and yet why must I succumb to this heartfelt plea?
To begin crying the moment I hear I can't see you.
Will this need that sends a wave of messages towards you only work against me?
Annoyance and irritation growing in you until you can't stand me?
My insecure heart repeats the record,
as it spins to the tune of,
"I wouldn't want to be with me either"
regardless of how many times you whisper how much you love me.
My inner demons howl their lies,
making me doubt what you have made plain before my eyes,
Showing your love time and again.
And yet my greedy heart longs for more.