I have lost something.

Something important.

I lost my sanity...

To me a Dandelion is not only a ****, killed, hated, yet god's prayers, for every wish to become true. Yet a beautiful sprung grown, flower wanting to be a rose, but accepting the fact that being a Dandelion is good.

"I am sorry. I don't want to be an emperor, that's not my business. I don't want to rule or conquer anyone. I should like to help everyone if possible. Jew, gentile, black man, white. We all want to help one another. Human beings are like that. We want to live by each other's happiness; not each other's misery. We don't want to hate and despise one another. In this world there's room for everyone and a good Earth is rich and can provide for everyone. The way of life can be free and beautiful, but we have lost the way. Greed has poisoned men's souls, has barricaded the world with hate; has goose-stepped us into misery and bloodshed. We have developed speed, but we have shut our selfs in; machinery that gives abundance has left us in want. Our knowledge has made us cynical, our cleverness hard and unkind. We think to much and feel to little. More than machinery we need humanity. More than cleverness we need kindness and gentleness. Without these qualities, life will be violent and all will be lost. The airplane and radio have brought us closer together. The very nature of these inventions sires out the goodness in men, cries out for universal brotherhood for the unity of us all. Even now my voice is reaching millions throughout the world, millions of despairing men, women and little children, victims of a system that makes men torture and imprison innocent people. To those who can hear me I say "Do not despair". The misery that is now upon us is but the passing of greed, the bitterness of men who fear the way of human progress: the hate of men will pass and dictators die and the power they took from the people, will return to the people and so long as men die liberty will never perish. Soldiers! Don't give yourselves to brutes, men who despise you, enslave you - who regiment your lives, tell you what to do what to think and what to feel, who drill you, diet you, treat you like cattle, use you as cannon fodder. Don't give yourselves to these unnatural men, machine men, with machine minds and machine hearts. You are not machines, you are not cattle. You are men. You have the love of humanity in your hearts. You don't hate only the unloved hate. The unloved and the unnatural. Soldiers - don't fight for slavery, fight for liberty. In the seventeenth chapter of Saint Luke it is written: "the kingdom of God is within man". Not one man, nor a group of men - but in all men - in you. You the people have the power, the power to create machines, the power to create happiness. You the people have the power to make this life free and beautiful, to make this life a wonderful adventure. Then in the name of democracy let us use that power - let us all unite. Let us fight for a new world, a decent world that will give men a chance to work,that will give you the future and old age and security. By the promise of these things, brutes have risen to power, but they lie. They don't fulfill that promise, they never will. Dictators free themselves but they enslave the people. Now let us fight to fulfill that promise. Let us fight to free the world, to do away with national barriers, to do away with greed, with hate and intolerance. Let us fight for a world of reason, a world were science and progress will lead to all men's happiness. Soldiers - in the name of democracy, let us all unite!"
~Charlie Chaplin

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.

The celling filed with wiggly lines.

My bed soft, mushy.

Pillow is furry, squishy.

My sheets silky, and warm.

My bed the place I slumber.

A place to say good night.

Good night.

This is the last of me.

Tonight pills.

Tomorrow gone.

More tears.

More smiles.

I am sorry.

I really am.

My body is still. I enjoy the air. I live out the freedom in the moment. My chest up, down; breath after breath. Dress flowing with the wind. My bare feet, toes twine with the grass. The water at the end of the cliff bouncing off the dirt forming an army of waves, a battle. The moon center of my view, my mind. I am at peace. I am fearless. I am home.

Days pass. She watches, she whispers. "Why?" The people she sees through her window. Her basement is cold, dark, empty. Just one body lies on the floor. Hers. Up in a ball, raveled. One barred window pushed up in the wall. A boy crawls up pressing against the metal. Asking "Hello? HELLOO?" Looking at her and screaming "I will get you out, I promise!" That was the thing; she was locked in there, punishment she doesn't know what she did wrong. She can't remember. She is to weak to get up and tell him no. She can't even smile, she showed him the last thing she had left, tears. She had a blank face. Thus her black hair, tangled, long against her pail white figure. She wore a dress, or what's left of it, white, laced end. Sad, that was her first wedding dress. Once to her feet, now to her thighs. Cut, torn; she used half of it as an attempt to escape, losing her energy. No shoes, smeared makeup, she laid. She never saw that boy again. That's another promise broken. She was imprisoned. She didn't scream, he warned her "One scream, one bullet, one life." With a smirk. He locked her up. Called her names, beat her, hated her. She died that day. Knowing there is no one left. Knowing that no one cared. Her last words "I am sorry for whatever I did, I love you." She died thinking it was her fault. She still loved him. He thought she was a joke. She took it seriously. He killed, she apologized. Her vow was more than heart could say. His vow wasn't more than a lie. His vow was a lie. She should have turned when she could. On the wedding day.

My hands tighten around your' neck.


We are crying.


You are trying to escape.


You are struggling. 


So am I.


You made me suffer.


You made me...


...Snap...

Rage fills in my room as I start to cry.

Tears fill up the room, making me drowned.

Deep under, covered in water.

Soaked, drenched.

I crave a smile, let down with a frown.

Why must you drown me.

Why push me father then I am.

I see no return for life.

I see blue, shimmers of light fading.

The waves rise above me.

The thing I live on is one speak of light, soon gone.

I should float, but I swim further down.

Bubbles rise, as I finally breath.

I don't want to die, but forced.

Murdered.

You created the tears that drowned me.

You don't care.

You swim in my pool.

My pool of tears.

A day to me is a world of              nothing. 
      



In a box lay                                              nothing.    ­­        
                
  
                   
                                Space                                 everywhere.
  
         Empty

A ancient man of up to date, in search for his rugous body to expire. Very sapient, in a low spoken tone. Blackening, lusterless, tone of green eyes hazed behind his glass dome to in which seeks a luminous view. Thus being no longer youthful, such man twas engraved as my forefather. 
  Tis of thy ancestor hair a majestic, ash, of none of thee less than one inch grown out of his marble shaped, sphere, crown. Scars are thee faded memories, thus he shall not keep them in mined nor heart.

Tis love?
A happy, gleaming full, heart warming world?
A melancholy, oppressing, shunning full world?
No;
Yes.
Love shan't be thee second on my list of wonders; yet the first.

Ribbon on the floor.

I can't take it anymore.

I will never be a prep.

I will never be fake.

I will never be the thing I hate.

Words have taken over my life. They control me. I am alone. I am afraid. I have been bullied. Years. Beaten with words. Hated with words. Betrayed. Stabbed. Doubt traced it's way to my mind and soul. I am infected. Not loved. Stolen. Taken. Kidnapped. Someone is disturbed by me. I have no friends. I write of sorrow. I am still waking up. My safe place in life is in my music. The only thing I have. What has began. This is a terrible story. This is my life, ******* words, the thing suffocating me is my life, how pathetic. No self control. No risk's to take. No way of living. Everything written by me is disgrace to others. Shocking. "Wow, what a brilliant mind she has. She needs to be more happy though." Shut up, I will not change. Not for anyone. This is me, don't like it then don't read it. Don't ******* judge me just by looks. I am tired of hatred remarks from ones inner opinion. Cussing. Screaming. Last year, I got picked on the bus, like every single day. That one day I had enough crap from the girls at school. One guy sad the last thing and I snapped. I cried I showed him that I have a weakness, that I am weak. I still cry. When I got home that day I through my bag in the middle of the street, screaming, cussing. One true friend standing next to me telling me "Amber, it is going to be OK," Giving me hugs. While my other "friend" says, and I quote. "Amber you shouldn't put you're bag there" Then she walk the rest of the way home. I ran to my house, bag still on the street. I lock myself in the bathroom screaming, and cutting. Blood on my wrist. Tears on my face. He did it, they have done it. "ARE YOU HAPPY NOW!" Still screaming. I never speak my mind. I don't tell my feelings. Every night I cry. Every ******* night. Go ahead think that this is for the views. It's not. It is not a lie. This is real. I am real. They are fake. The words now are just mixed up. I scream, I cry. I cry, I scream. I am crying as I am typing. I just. I don't know anymore. I am just here. You are just there. We are apart. You may not understand. You may relate. I am sorry if you can. But this is one little part of my story... Welcome to my life.

I have all the feelings in my head. I hate and love. I just hate more than love. I am tired and depressed. **** this. I am done. Life, yup, not my thing. I **** at life. I can't even sleep without some type of emotion. I hate my life, me, people, this world. So tell me how much I have worth living for. I know what I have. But I have more hate towards people and in me than love in anything. What the hell am I doing. Oh my god. Yes I scream. Yes I cry. I **** at math. But do you really need math for writing. Random noises leave my mouth. I don't have a feeling at a time. They just bounce together. When I cry I laugh. I scream and I am crying. Ugh. This is a poem, a ****** one. I listen to only songs that have meaning. What am I supposed to do besides run. Run from what. I don't know. Let me go. Zombiefy!! Woo. What the hell was that. A.D.D. taking over me. What did I do. Where do I go. The scars on my wrist are now gone. Except one. That one gave me more pain. It hurts like a pinch. And stings. Blood just there. It doesn't move until I make the next slash, making the drops turn in to a puddle. I let it build up inside of me. In my thoughts.

"But, I thought..."

"HAHAH fat ***, did you really think that anyone would like you. (With a crowd behind her)

"I... I just thought."

"Well you thought wrong *****! AHAH (The whole crowd laughs)"

"But what did I do?"

"You were talking **** about me, yeah he told me, go die you *****! (More laughs from the crowd)"

"No I don't talk about people... I didn't say anything"

"Oh "OK Sure" Yeah go say that you ***. No one likes you. Go **** you're self. HAHA (More)"

She walked out of the girls restroom along with the crowd. Me one the floor crying. I crawl to the nearest stall. I stay there for about 5 minutes. I soak up my tears to accept the fact that I have to go back. In my head I thought take her out, punch her, kick her, DO SOMETHING! I didn't, I wanted to. No cameras in the bathroom. No proof that anything happened that day. I wish I would have fought back. But I was afraid. Lies lead up to this. He told lies. He, she, they, them. Lies.

We are all here for a reason.

That reason is unknown.



The flowers are my god.

They are there, no one can explain them. 

No one...

Flowers are my belief.


They get crushed, yet bounce back up.

They are calm, colorful, fragranced.



What is your God, your Belief?

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.

The fragrance of sweet red.

Leading you towards the fiery pit of pedals.

The thing of love. 

To me is the thing of death.

To mourn then place.

One by one, extinct.

The beauty of life. 

Pedals fall one, two, and so on.

Rose,
beautiful,
deadly.

Rose.

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.

I am done with life. I hate myself. I hate people. I want the sweet sent of suicide to rome amongst my feet. I feel of no place for me to be in. I am a disturbance. 

How can I be so ugly in and out. I don't fit in. I am bullied. I am abuse with sounds and fists. I am alone. No one can relate. I am stuck.

I mustn't talk, no, not a sound. It's a sin if expressed. I am the passage way to depression, enjoy the ride while you can. I am sorrow. I am me, the worst to be.

Why must I be alone? What did I do? Well I can't complain, if god did this then what is he to be of heaven. God is the root to all evil. Well in my world he is. Believe and are betrayed.
I don't understand my meaning of life. Why must you drop me from heaven if so then why thee others gracefully down. I hate how I am separate from myself. The different views. The world is a dark place. I feel of nothing to be cheerful of. I am my only friend.

Most of you think, wow, great writing. These are my feelings. This poem is my mind. The only way I can communicate to any other is this, yet they read and just continue life without a doubt, while I am still right here. What have I become, a monster, a guesser.

My life as a flower.

I shall wilt in fear.

I grow towards death.

I crumble the fastest.

I die by suicide,

not **** spray.

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.

Mom, you have showed me to laugh.

Tough times at school.

Grades, people.

You shined through.

Strait from heart to heart.

You are a positive.

You made me.

You are me life instructor, my way to life.

You have showed me a path.

I am a purpose.

I am rain.

You don't hide like other when I may start create lightning bolts.

No, no you, you calm me, create me.

I love you.

Thank you mom.

Tough times shine through when you are near.

You are my hero.

You are my god.

Sometimes my only belief.

I love you, yet again said.

But not expressed.

You always ask me.

"Amber, how much do you love me?"

Well mommy, this is it.

I love you.

Thank you.

<3

It is 2:07 am and me and the love my live sitting, laying on the ground. "I love you." He whispered so close to my ear I feel the heat, the moisture from his mouth, breathing the words down my neck. "I love you too." I say with a smile. His lips make contact with mine as we indulge on a kiss. Holding joining together, twining together. We look up at the stars, one falls "Make a wish." He said so gracefully, with a smile. He looks at me, as my eyes closed clenching his hands a whispering to myself. "I wan't to be with you for the rest of my life." As they leave, behind the mint 57 chevy, trunk open, he gets down on one knee and ask a question that every girl want's to be asked, yet he used a different term. "Wish granted." "She smiles and cries at the same time. "I love you." "I love you too."

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.

They scare me.

I hide.

They scream at me.

I run.

They laugh.

I cry.

They are free.

I am stuck.


My mind is them.

The people.

The faces.

The words.


To me.

Towards me.

Behind me.

About me.


There words taunt me.

They haunt me.

They don't **** me.

I **** myself.


There voices.

In my head.

Night, day.

Always and forever.

They stay.

The memories.

The words.

In my head.

The memories ****.

I forgive.

I don't mean it.

I try to forget. 

But always fail.

The memories.

Blood on my arm.

Razor.

Blade painted red.

I cut.