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Ava Courtney May 2016
I can't describe just how I feel,
when I go round on a Ferris wheel,
the lights, they shine so bold and bright,
above the carnival grounds tonight.

My mood is uplifted into the air,
as my heart beats without a care,
I feel so free, as if I could fly,
with nothing between the ground and I.

The cool night wind flows in my hair,
the people look so small, way down there,
I hold my breath as I go over the top,
a feeling, surreal, I don't want to stop.

As fear escapes and I enjoy the ride,
I can't help but look down, over the side,
I am up among the stars and the moon,
an exciting feeling that ends, all too soon.
Ava Courtney May 2016
When I was a kid I only ever wanted to be strong
I wanted to be able to compete with the boys at recess when we raced.
But that was when worry and society didn’t consume my thoughts.
And the words “Am I good enough” didn’t conjure my Mind.
Now I’m in middle school and they shrieked at the site of a girl wearing makeup or getting all dolled up. The **** (plant) inside my mind grew, and grew, and grew. Until I became a mixed drink with one part “Ugly” and two parts lonely, because I thought that the definition of feminine began with the word frail. No one ever realizes how greatly the word affects us, how a simple name can turn a pretty girl, into something she’s not. All these words and names buried deep inside a cage that could not be escaped, My bones turned into ***** knives trying to cut through the flesh of my judgement. As I grew older. I became the girl that was never enough. Not good enough to wear this, not tall enough, not primped for perfection, not smart enough, not pretty enough, not cool enough, not loud enough. And i began to believe too, that I wasn’t enough. I never told anyone they way I felt or the ***** secrets that I have because I was too vulnerable for judgement. But when we were kids are brains are still growing and the smallest seeds that get planted will one day bloom into one giant regret, and that seed will one day affect the choices we make, it will influence the clothes we were, it will one day shape us into the person we thought we would never be. I thought that the definition of woman began with the word disappointment. But we are not disappointments, We will never be the ones who gave up on hope. We will never be the one who gave up on each other, or god, or our mothers, We will always be enough: enough for the ones who shunned us, enough for the ones that mocked us, enough for the ones the hurt us and destroyed us and beat us when were were covered in bruises. But you see, bruises fade and go away, and the scars of our flesh are only stories about things we overcame and there are things out there that we will overcome. When I was a child, I only ever wanted to be strong. I hid my vulnerability. I hid the parts of me that were true. I never told my mom the way i feel because i was afraid she wouldn’t understand. Kind of like all those people who never understood just how much words affect us. And I can’t say that my childhood didn’t affect me, But I take it and embrace it. Because I am strong. I am a mixed drink cocktail with 1 part beautiful, 1 part confidence, and 1 part powerful. Because I AM GOOD ENOUGH.
Ava Courtney May 2016
She searched the shelves of heat and discovered hiding there her
Poetic palette, all her colors, true and fair. She opened the cupboard
Where the canvas frames lay and on an easel began to paint the shades of her heart’s bouquet. The pastel freely flowed into a prismatic reflection of her late memory of life’s inconstant perfection. In the painting of her poems, her memories vividly convey all the joys and sorrows she came to know along her way. While she painted she closed her eyes and departed to a new world. Now she lay safe and sound forever loved never forgotten as what she was know by: “The Artist”
Stand up tall
And take control of your life
Put your heart into things
Be jubilant, be bright
Jump and rejoice
Be an inspiration
Rise up and earn your victory
What a great sensation
  May 2016 Ava Courtney
NV
I SLAMMED THE DOOR SO HARD, THAT IT COULD HAVE FALLEN OFF IT'S HINGES,
THE SAME WAY I COLLAPSE TO MY KNEES SOMETIMES.
I SLAMMED IT WITH THE KIND OF FORCE THAT IT  TAKES ME TO LOVE, AND GOD KNOWS I LOVE WITH THE POWER OF EARTHQUAKES AND TORNADOS COMBINED.
  May 2016 Ava Courtney
Michelle
It is more than family photos
Hanging on a wall.
It is much more than a garden,
Where as toddlers we may fall.
It is much more than a roof,
Standing over some red brick.
More than a place for us to shelter
Whenever we get sick.
It's more than flowers on a mantlepiece,
And endless cups of tea.
Home is not a place,
Home is letting me be me.
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