Sometimes I find myself with likenesses of water.
To most, I am to be drank,
Taken in, one sip at a time.
But I warn you,
Don’t drink too much of me,
You might just drown.

I can be crystal clear,
Or muddy and darkened,
However, no matter what I am,
It doesn’t take much to see right through me.
All it takes is a little something,
And all becomes clear to anyone who dares to look inside.

I can be beautiful,
Mysterious,
Depressing,
Dangerous...

My emotions are most comparable to the Atlantic,
I’m there, at the beach,
Though most days I’m a little too cold to fully enjoy.
I can give life,
To things that range from small and beautiful,
To large and horrific.

I connect things one wouldn’t expect,
Like Belgium and Mexico,
See?  Didn’t expect that, did you?

I’m a little different to everyone,
When I use a term as general as “water”,
But let’s go to the heart of it all.
All bodies of water begin and end with the oceans.
And at the heart of each of those…

Is a storm

A hurricane,
Whirlpool,
Tidal wave,
Tsunami…

Enjoy me all you want,
But one day,
I’ll destroy everything
Even myself

Next time you walk away....
And leave me crying...
Don't come back....

My princesses,
Adorned with silver,
And fire,
My moonbeam,
And my queen,
Who has hurt you so dearly?

The light I adored has left your eyes,
It's almost as if you are walking corpses.

Where can I find the magic spell,
To bring that light back?
To see your beautiful smiles,
Lighting up the stars above.

You are my constellations,
My wonders,
And I will do anything I can,
To keep you from fading away.

Every thought I have feels quite artistic,
Poetic, thoughtful, dramatic,
Whatever you may choose to call it.

But how do I express these thoughts to others,
When most of them come in the form of sounds, feelings and colours?

At night I lie awake,
My mind begins to run away from the reality
I wish to escape

Sometimes I am a poet,
Sitting at my mahogany desk,
Writing in perfect calligraphy,
That I've spent millions of years perfecting,
The ink from my quill staining this parchment,
Painting my thoughts unto the world,
Better than my brush ever could.

Sometimes I am a singer,
Staring into the void of an auditorium,
Breathing out my heart and soul,
For a small group of people,
That have suddenly become my universe.

Sometimes I am in his arms,
Soft kisses brushing the hairs atop my head,
His arms around me,
His heartbeat matched only by my own,
Our song quietly escaping his lips,
Lulling me to sleep.

Or…

Millions of light-years away,
Where I no longer am me,
I just am.
I am one with everything,
The glowing gas clouds,
Sparkling,
Filled with millions,
Billions,
Trillions, of tiny stars.

The stars reflected in my eyes,
Their fire setting my heart ablaze,
And I lose all thought.

There,
Among the stars,
I am free...

My face is round
My jaw is square
My hair is short
And my skin is fair

These locks are red
But fade to brown
And I've got freckles
All around

My lips are curved
In a permanent pout
My eyes look sad
Without a doubt

My brows are flat
And though I've tried
Most find it hard
To look me in the eye

If you're one of the few
To gaze towards me
You'll see these pools
Of hazel-green.

My ******* are C’s
But you can't tell
For most of the time
I hide them well

My curves are small
I have thick thighs
So please don't look
At my slightly plump size

I looked in the mirror
And all I saw
Was an image of me
And all my flaws

Now you know
What's behind this screen
And under all that
I am me.

I'm sorry, guys.
I'm no poet.
I just happened to be on this site because I got on before you had to be accepted.
I can't write poetry for crap.
All these things I write aren't poetry,
I'm just typing out my depressing thoughts,
Hitting enter a bunch of times,
And displaying what a disgusting human being I am to this beautiful community.

I give up...
This is like my motto.
But I'm a hypocrite.

I wake up every morning,
Wishing I hadn't.

I'd end things myself,
But I  just freeze every time I come close.

Last time...
I was so weak, I had to make one last call...
And that broke me.
I sat there, pills in my hand,
Too weak to say anything but "I'm sorry" over and over while they begged me not to do it...

I wasted too much time, and the next thing I knew, I'd been pinned down, too weak to scream...
Let me go...*
I'd breathe out those words, almost to quiet to hear...

Then I woke up the next day.
"I love you.  Thank you for being alive."
I actually thought maybe life was worth it,
For a short amount of time...

Now I'm here,
Tears on my keyboard,
Bile tickling my throat,
Wishing I had done it then...


I don't know what else to say.


I can't say goodbye....so I'll see you tomorrow.


I wish that weren't the case.

When I was four...
I lost my great grandmother.
Didn't know her well,
But it didn't take much to see she was a sweet, kind soul.
I stood in the rain and wind at her funeral,
Clinging to my mothers arms,
Staring at the coffin blankly, because I didn't know what else to do.

When I was eight...
I lost my best friend.
His hair was as fiery as mine,
We played at recess every day.
One day he stopped coming to school,
You only knew where he was if you asked,
That's how his parents wanted it.
He came back, once.
Balding, attached to an IV,
Just to watch us play one more time.
Then he was gone.
I still didn't know what to do.
The school put up a plaque in his name,
And planted him a tree to live on for him.

When I was eleven,
I lost someone who was like a second father to me.
He loved me and my mother,
And we loved him.
I never got to tell him that....
He was an alcoholic.
And, it ******* his heart.
My mom woke up to a dead man,
Took him to the hospital.
That night, she watched him being kept alive by machines,
And was told he had no chance of waking up.
She watched his family and friends make the decision to pull the plug.
I didn't know until later, I was with my biological father.
I didn't see my mom for a week.
I didn't eat or drink that whole time.
I was empty.
I didn't cry until they played his favorite song at the funeral,
A familiar one to me.
I sobbed quietly into my mother's lap,
Trying not to disturb the others.

That night,
I prayed for the first time,
Just to try and talk to him.

When I was fifteen,
A mere four months ago.
Nearly five.
I lost another friend,
Who I wish I knew better.
He battled cancer for a year.
We didn't see him for months on end,
Because he couldn't come to school.
And a month or so after he finally started getting better,
Coming back to school,
He got sick....
And his body couldn't handle it.
At first, I was more worried about making sure my other friends were okay,
And then it hit me.
I stayed with them in the counselor's office for the last half of the school day,
Crying,
Writing to him that I was sorry.
I cried the next day at his memorial,
And then at his funeral.
It still hits me sometimes,
Like waking up from a dream,
To find that life is a nightmare.
And I break all over again.

Just before that,
Another friend of mine,
Told me they only had two years left...
There were problems with a vital ***** of theirs,
And they were worsening.
I've had to secretly bear this,
No one else can know.
I'm waiting for that day to come.

A few days ago,
My current best friend,
My family,
Said they may only have a year left.
Internal wounds that wont heal,
Blood loss,
That's all I can think.
If the doctors can't fix this...
Who can?

Slowly,
I've been losing pieces of myself,
Giving it to them,
Horcruxes, if you will,
And when they leave this world behind,
So does that part of me...
Each person that dies hurts worse than the last,
Because it's just adding onto the pile of pain,
That I can't get over.
I hardly have the strength to hold on to who I am anymore...

*Why can't I be next in line instead?

If I had the right voice,
If I could find the right notes,
The right beat, rhythm,
I would turn this poetry into a song.

Who would listen to music this depressing?

I would.
Many would.
Especially those who know my pain,
Can relate to this music.

I want to show the dark side of the world that only few know,
And make those lonely souls know,
That someone cares.
They're not alone,
We are family,
Unspoken blood runs through our veins.

So...

Someday, if I find all that,

*Let me sing you to sleep, my brothers and sisters.

Who am I?
I don’t know anymore.
It’s hard to live a life,
Where are your fond memories feel like you’re watching someone else’s life.
I’m this empty shell that just goes through the motions of life,
I laugh,
I joke, and I plaster on my perfected smile,
I cry,
But after all of that is through,
At the end of every day….

I just feel so empty

Void of everything I thought I was.
There are few people who make me feel *real
Close friends,
Lovers,
Ex-friends and lovers,
Sometimes those real feelings are even enjoyable.

But they never last.
When all comes to a close at the end of the day,
I lay in bed,
Staring into the darkness,
Feeling nothing.

Am I even human?

How is it possible,
That I can be a stranger to myself?

How can the broken fix the broken?
I'm not broken, I'm just fragile.
You were ready to **** yourself just the other day.
It was a moment of weakness.
Tell me you don't wish you had died that day.  Tell me you want to live.
I don't, and I do.
Tell me you won't try again.
...
TELL ME YOU WON'T TRY AGAIN.
I'm not a liar.  I cannot speak that which I'm an uncertain of.
You've been falling for so long you don't even know it anymore.
What are you talking about?
Losing yourself piece by piece so gradually you haven't noticed all that you're missing.
I'm right here.  This is me.  I cannot be missing what does not exist.
Anymore.
You must be thinking of someone else.
You're probably right.  You're just a stranger.  Whoever it is in thinking of died long ago.

The darkness,
It started out as a small drop,
In the center of my chest,
And like a *cancer,
It spread throughout my whole body.

It swam in my veins,
Coated my lungs,
And swallowed me whole.
It seeped through my skin,
And began to form around me,
A black cloud, I've become a shadow.

This darkness feels like it's all I've ever known,
I don't know who...what I am anymore,

But sometimes...something magical happens.
Him.
He's danced with my shadows,
And blown away the clouds,
And I slowly feel this darkness peeling away.

The day he told me he loved me,
I swear it was like he beamed a *flashlight,
Right at my heart.

*I think he knows how to turn the lights on.

I’m disgusting.
I’m afraid of everything.
I’m scared of the dark,
Of my dad,
Of myself.
I’m afraid of living,
But I’m slightly more afraid of dying.

I’ve held that knife,
Felt its cold, sharp edge,
Pressed against my throat
My wrist.
I’ve stared at those pills,
Hours on end,
I’ve even dreamt about them.
I’ve stood atop that building,
Leaning over the edge,
Frozen in place,
Hoping that the slightest of breeze would knock me over the edge.

I’ve wished to die,
Prayed, even.
I’m just too scared to do it.
**** myself
So I sit there, and stare at that wall,
Dreaming of a “tragedy”
That a car will come out of nowhere,
Or that tiny crack will trip me,
Or maybe I’ll even catch something lethal.
Anything that will **** me,
Anything but myself.

I’m so sorry that I’m still alive.
I’m sorry to you,
And to me.

That I’m a coward.

Welcome to the party, do you have your mask ready?
Everyone’s dressed like the rich and the famous,
And who knows, some of them may be.
Here’s your chance to get out there and make a scene.
Make some memories with some complete strangers.
Or some old friends, you’ll never know.
Oh, but who’s over there?
Across the room, against the wall,
Quietly chatting away with the tall stranger in a crow’s mask.
That’s me, of course!
Where’s my mask, you may ask.
It’s right here, resting perfectly on my face.
Can’t you tell it’s a mask?
No, maybe not.
That’s because this one was made just for me.
I made it myself.
It’s taken me years to perfect it,
So no one would know when I wore it.
I’m sorry I didn’t get a special mask for the occasion,
I didn’t have the time.
And I’m sorry this mask isn’t as festive as the others.
You see, this mask looks just like me, spare a few minor details.
For example, I’m wearing a bright,
Happy,
Smile.
That’s something you’ll never see on my real face.

Isn’t time supposed to flow in a linear direction?
Isn’t that why they’re called ”Timelines”?
You’re born,
You’re a baby,
A kid,
A teen,
An adult,
Old,
Dead,

Last century,
Decade,
Year,
Month,
Week,
Yesterday,
An hour ago,
A minute ago,
Tomorrow,
Next week,
Next month,
Next year,
Next decade,
Next century,
Next lifetime

Isn’t that it?
That’s how it goes?

Well then, what’s wrong with me?

I know I’m getting older,
But I can’t see today.
What is now,
When I keep looking back?
I’m taken back to my past every day.
To the good,
To the bad…

Yesterday, it was October 13th, 2014.
Last week, it was January 8th, 2015, and 2000.
Today, it’s October 14th, 2015….
Wait…
What’s wrong with the calendar?
It says it’s January 20th, 2016…
Where am I?
When am I?
Where did the time go….?

Everyone wants to be a superhero.
Or a supervillain, in some cases.
Everyone wants to be special,
To defy the norm,
To be loved,
Praised,
Worshipped.

I’m one of the lucky few who got what they wanted.
But here’s the thing about wishes;
There’s always a twist.
A glitch in the code,
A setback,
A call to reality,
To make us pay for our selfish wants.

What’s my power, you ask?
It’s certainly a good one.
And my curse?
It’s a doozy, I’ll tell you that.

I can’t fly,
I can’t communicate with animals,
Can’t breathe under water,
Don’t have super strength,
And I can’t see through steel.

I have the best power of them all.
I can become Invisible

I can easily slip away from anything without being noticed,
I can watch the world unfurl, completely unaffected.

Thing is, I can’t become visible when I want to.
My power chooses its own schedule.

Meaning…
I’m completely alone, 80% of the time.
I can’t make friends,
Because they can’t see me.
I can’t have conversations,
Because no one wants to talk with a ghost.
I get left behind,
Because no one knew I was there in the first place.

I must be strong.
I have to be.
Because no one will be there for me.
No one wants to care.
No one can.

I talk to myself,
Or watch the world like a show,
Craving to be a part of it.
I know it’ll never happen,
But it’s always fun to dream.

Of being loved,
Wanted,
Noticed,
Acknowledged.
Heck, I’d even settle for being hated,
If it only meant that I would get to know what it feels like,
To be looked in the eye.

Have you ever felt the feeling,
Of being looked through?
Like a window,
Or a spirit?

It starts to get to you, ya know?
You start to think about it,
Start to stop seeing yourself as well.
Suddenly, you don’t even exist.
Not to anyone,
Not even yourself.




Oh, yes.
I am so,
Very,
*Special

How do you do it?
How does one take an abstract painting,
And interpret it as words, sentences, stories?
How do you give a color an emotion?
What language does a line speak?
It's so hard to personify something that was created,
To remain a mystery?
So hard,
Yet so naturally human
Why can't I do it
Like you?
When it comes to this phenomenon of abstract expression,
I put the b in *dyslexic

You two are sadly misunderstood.
From ancient lore to modern poetry and children's stories,
You are depicted as light and dark
Hot and cold
Life and death
But that's not it, is it?

You are not sworn enemies,
Fighting for our time, gratitude, and even worship.
You are not these polar opposites,
But lovers,
Attempting to get close to each other.
Going round and round in the wrong direction.

One is the light of the other's life,
And the peaceful, quiet love that the other needs.

You are the Sun and the *Moon

Do you know where my heart has gone?
It's supposed to be in my chest,
Nestled in my warm rib cage.
I know it's been missing for a long time,
But it's mine.  It was made for me, and I was made for it.
I can't give up on my precious heart now.
Not ever.
.
.
.
It ran away.
It didn't even say anything.
Yes, I had my suspicions, but I wasn't sure if it was safe to believe.
By now, it's hundreds of miles away,
Sitting right there.
In your hands.

I must ask of you, fearsome person.
Protect my dear heart.
It is frail, and timid.
Keep it warm at night,
And make sure it stays happy.
From here on, *I give you my heart.

In her eyes I see so much more than that twinkling silver-grey
I see pain
I see sadness
I see fear
Sometimes even anger
But I also see joy,
Dreams and wishes
Through her eyes I see an amazing amount of love, and intellect
As well as strength
Enough strength to heal her pain
To forget about her sadness and anger
To face her fear
And to make those dreams and wishes come true
I see everything that she is

When she looks in the mirror she may not see the same eyes that I see, and it's a shame
Because those eyes inspire me and give me hope and strength

I wonder...
*What does the world look like through silver eyes?

The mind can be many things,
A notebook, diary or whiteboard
A music box, stereo or symphony
A painting, sculpture or sketch
A calculator and even a dictionary
As well as a heart of sorts
Most importantly it can be a storage, full of
Memories and emotions
Sights and smells
Family, friends and lovers
Ideals, opinions and beliefs
Dreams and nightmares
Fears and loves
Basically,
This is just a long way of saying...


The mind can be, and and hold
Everything that makes you
*you

Sometimes it seems like I crave this pain
As if it's the only feeling I can know
When I'm "happy"
I feel nothing
Everything seems so perfect sometimes
Leaving me numb
So I leave that perfectness behind
And I search my mind
For an excuse to hurt
To cry
To scream
To quiver
To feel
Something, anything.

I'm so broken inside, and you act like that's okay.

You think I'm out of my mind?
Well, you're right.
But remember this, my dear reader.
I'm all the way out here,
Because it's much scarier *inside

A lonely white cloud glides through an otherwise clear blue sky
Minutes, hours, days pass
Just as the cloud loses hope and begins to fade away, the blue sky blends into a dark gray
Just up ahead, the little white cloud finds a family
The cloud is welcomed as one of their own, and the join together, growing darker and darker together
They say farewell to each other, and transform into even smaller raindrops, about to embark on their own journeys
One of which includes falling on and around a sad girl, on a quiet hill
She's crying
Little does she know that her tears join the falling rain on a path to something beautiful
The droplets find their way deep into the soil of that quiet hill
And there, they find a surprise
It's a seed
Eager to befriend it, the droplets gather around, and nurture the seed
Months and years pass, as something begins to grow
A little green sprout starts to stretch tall, as it loses its greenness that is replaced by a dark brown color
More and more raindrops find their way to the sprout, encouraging it to grow even bigger
It reaches up into the sky, and spreads giant branches, and those branches house leaves
The little seed, with the help of the clouds and the rain, became a tree.

Decades later, that tree has gone on to be a home for many
Birds, squirrels, caterpillars,
It even becomes a place of good memories for a family
A mother and father, and their little boy and girl
And do you know who that mother is?

Well, she used to be a sad little girl, who sat on a quiet hill and cried.

Anything is poetry if you just hit "enter" a bunch of times.
Sentences and paragraphs become lines and stanzas.
And when you're done, look at your masterpiece.
It's a "Free Verse Poem".

At night I lay in my bed.
Sometimes, I shut the lights off, and I think.
With my vision impaired, I begin to think and feel more.

I can feel the darkness

It's like a blanket that hugs every millimeter of my body.
It can be a comfort, but at the time time, it makes me want to scream.
As a human, I fear the unknown.
And also as a human, I naturally cannot see in the dark.

When I just lay there, I can feel the darkness hug me in such a way that I feel paralyzed.
I move my eyes around, hoping to see light, to no avail.

My over-active mind likes to fill in the blanks in which my senses cannot.
I see everything that I fear.

Every little thing I have ever spent restless nights worrying about, is there before me.
The clowns, the murderers, the mythical horrors I remember hearing about around the fire years ago.
They're all there.
They don't move, they don't speak.
They just stand there, as I feel the terror build up inside of me.
I want to scream, I want to run for the light switch, but I am still paralizyed.
So I just lay there in terror until my body decides that it needs to sleep, and I fall into another nightmare.
I say I am afraid of the dark for these very reasons...

But think about it this way.

The darkness is merely a canvas that my mind paints.  And what it paints is controlled by my subconscious.

Maybe, just maybe...

I am afraid of me.

I love the way your hazel eyes dazzle when you look at me
I love the way those same eyes wrinkle at the edges when you smile
I love the pitchy way you hum when you have a song stuck in your head
I love the cute way you tilt your head when I say something that you like
I love when you text me just to tell me you love me and miss me
I love the cheesy little hearts you make with your hands when you send me pictures of yourself
I love the way your eyes open wide and te way your voice gets a little louder when you speak of your passions
I love how you pay attention to the things I like and don't like, and take advantage of that just to make me smile
I love how you can push away all of my sad and scary thoughts at night without even trying.  All I need is to think of you and I feel like I'm glowing
I love the way you say my name, and all the other nicknames you give me
I love how you notice all the little things I do and say
I love the curly, messy dark hair of yours that you hate
I love that you opened my eyes and showed me happiness when I was lost for so long
I love that you taught me how to smile openly without hiding it
I love your dorky laugh
There are so many little and big things that I love about you, but my favorite thing about you,
Is that /you love me/
For exactly who I am.
Thank you.