they come in all different shapes and sizes.
Some are deeper, thicker.
They release emotions.
Art, made from your own blood.

Blades, knives, scissors.
So many paint brushes.
Legs, arms, wrists.
So many canvases.

Pain soon becomes release.
Its a silent addiction.
No need to brag.

As kids we played soldiers
sticks were our guns
our words were our bullets
we had hours of fun

But for kids in Uganda
it isn't the same
not since Joseph Kony
took over the game

He forced them to fight
and he forced them to ****
while we stood by and did nothing
lacking knowledge and will

But let this be the year
that it comes to an end
that there's visible justice
for invisible children

Because Joseph Kony
we're coming for you
stopping at nothing
and there's **** all you can do

http://vimeo.com/invisible/kony2012

She stood there, across from me. Unable to look into my eyes, she stood there. With her hands in the pockets of her jeans, her shoulder and head leaning against the wall, and gravity trying to **** the tears she was trying to hold back, her head was down but up enough for me to see what was going through her mind. She stood there and she was beautiful. Her face was full of worry, confusion, anger and she was upset. Her hands were in her pockets because she was shaking, she was nervous. My words were realization, the kind that screams at you. She stood there and i stood across from her, looking at her, unable to take my eyes off of her. While i was full of regret, she was lost in her own train of thought. Someone had to make her think though. Silence filled the air for longer then i realized at the time. She looked up but quickly away, avoiding my eyes that were visibly begging for hers, and in that instant her tears played tag along her cheeks, dripping aimlessly down to the floor, giving into gravity. But she was beautiful. Biting her lip out of shame for crying, she looked back down and in that instant, defeat took over her every inch. I stood there, my eyes still begging for hers, and I couldnt move. She was beautiful and I was numb. To check if I was alive, i took a step towards her, being drawn in by her beauty, then i took a few more, until i found myself quickly wrap my arms around her. She went to turn away cause she didnt find herself deserving of this, but i held her, deserving or not. I held her because i wasnt going anywhere, anytime soon and i didnt want to let her slip away from me like i did the rest, because She wasnt the rest, she was her and she was absolutley beautiful where she stood. I didn let her go because, I couldnt, i wouldnt let myself. Her being there, within my arms, was my realization, the kind thats just a whisper in your ear. I pulled away and whiped away her tears. Finally, her eyes met mine. It was then that we both knew. I wasnt going anywhere and she was coming no where with me. She was everything. She was my beautiful girl and she is beautiful where she stands.

I know you never lied. I could see through your eyes into the honesty of your words, although you didn't mean to let yourself speak them. You gasped and made the mistake of voicing your pain. I'm sorry I broke your heart, but in the end, it was only fair.

I loved you just as much.

DEAR ANNE FRANK: 05-14-10 ( Part One of Letters To Anne)

Dear Anne:

You were so precocious as a child,
needing to be the center of attention.
Yet you were very, very strong inside.
Such a tragedy when you died.

I look at your beautiful face,
And I wonder what you did not see.
There will never be enough accolades
to calm the pain of  your empty space.

The ache of loneliness resonates
throughout your expressions;
in your pictures, your poems, your letters.
My heart is breaking, I feel just like you.

You saw yourself as a lover of life.
Your words are so full of hope and  love.
My feelings, you express so well.
My sorrow is complete, you are now above.

Dear Anne.

Demented devils forced your demise.
The natural beauty of yourself never dies.
God, I wish I could turn back time.
But you left, still believing the world is kind.

I wish I could talk to you. I wish I could convey
that life is full of pain, yes.
But bearable if one maintains a true heart
and a belief in your God’s reprieve.

The death of your mother, your sister.
Your wish to stay was forced aside.
You were alone, a small boat, lost in the sea.
Your attempts to survive were thwarted.
Your mind convinced you otherwise.

I will never forget your struggle,
It resonates within me.
They turned you into a “bag of bones”.
Yet you attracted anyone you wanted.

Your flirtatiousness was infectious.
Boys flocked to you as you played
a game of “want me, but don’t need me”…

Your words are torturous and keen.
I miss you. You explained me.
I wish I could tell you how much you mean to me.

But it’s too late.
You never even knew me.
You were sixteen when you died.
I wasn’t here, it was 1945.

I’ve attempted to die since I was fifteen.
God must have a purpose for me.
Or maybe He likes my suffering,
My shame is in my last uttering.

You succeeded.
You made it where I want to be.
Do you still believe what you wrote?
“Despite everything, I believe that people are really good at heart.”
Anne Frank

You have always had the peace I crave
to stop my crawling stomach.

The pain is great, almost overwhelming…
How did you succeed? Would you help me?
(Dedicated to Anne Frank, 1929-1945 RIP)

OTHER QUOTES BY ANNE FRANK;

Everyone has inside of him a piece of good news. The good news is that you don't know how great you can be! How much you can love! What you can accomplish! And what your potential is!
Anne Frank

italicHow true Daddy's words were when he said: all children must look after their own upbringing. Parents can only give good advice or put them on the right paths, but the final forming of a person's character lies in their own hands.
Anne Frank

How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world.
Anne Frank

I don't think of all the misery but of the beauty that still remains.
Anne Frank

they write about her im the toilets.
they call her a ****.
they mock her.
they make her hate herself.
everything she is, everthing shes become.
its their fault.

she crys herself to sleep at night.
wishing she could change.
wishing the scars would fade.

wishing she could fade.
wishing she hadnt done the things she things she had.

wishing.
wishing.
wishing.

just wishing she would die.