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I am too tired
To say something worthwhile
So let me not speak.
I've always wanted
To write a poem about it
Because, just because.
I don't know why, but I guess
I really like it.
So I'm going camping—
Hooray!
I just hope I don't  
Stay bored all day.

So I'm sleeping on hard ground—
Whoopee!
I just hope it doesn't
Get to me.

So I'm getting family time—
That'll be great!
The best thing that'll happen
Will be the memories we make.
Words just escape me
I'm not sure why, but I feel
Kind of breathless here.
:P
My fingers hurt from writing,
My pencil is wearing on me;
I'm tired of constantly scribbling—
I wish I could type everything.
And
                       You were just
                Like the                 Moon,
           So lonely, so
   Full of imper-
Fections but
   Just like the
         Moon , you                    Shined  
                 In times of ,          Dar-
                               kness.
He told me today
That I looked pretty; I guess,
Well, maybe I was. :)
The fact that he said "You look pretty today" and that I knew he was only a friend, was sure of that, only made what he said feel more honest...and then today I didn't even feel "pretty" as we define it, like I was wearing a t-shirt instead of something more close and I wasn't wearing even mascara, and it really struck me. But now I think I'm starting to see that my beauty doesn't depend on my outward appearance---sometimes, that distracts from my inner beauty. I'm a child of God, and that is who I am, not what society says or what magazines say I should look like. It seems so simple to just "not care" about how I look, but it's actually something I've been fighting recently. I never thought I would. It's funny what being around people my own age does (plus a breakup that's left me kind of unstable). But I think I like not wearing makeup or shirts outside my comfort zone better than self-consciousness, wondering if anyone thinks I'm doing it for attention.

I think I'm starting to be free.
He fell from the sky
I wasn’t looking for anything but solitude
But he fell from the sky
And refused to let me out of his sight
He refused to let me cry my silent tears
Wrapping my misery in balloons
And letting his fingers fall away
Watching as they soared up high into oblivion someday
For him life wasn’t a word
But a song to be sung everyday
In new and everlasting ways
Plucking my heartstrings as he strummed his way
Into my broken and mangled life
Where nothing ever seemed to play
The right notes of the day
He ****** out all the bad dreams
And breathed in hope of a new life
Filled with things that may or may not happen
He taught me how to smile again
With my favourite dimple peeking out
When I screamed and ranted
About things beyond his control
He kissed me
And suddenly
If only for a moment
I felt like what I felt mattered
I felt like my poems were good
Really good
So good that may be someone else
Might want to read them one day
Someone else who doesn’t have someone like him
He fell from the sky
And taught me how to let everything go
Not for others
But for myself
He showed me what music looks like
He made me realize
That I do want forever
No matter how much I said I didn’t
He fell from the sky
And I don’t think I’ll ever be the same any more
For the person beyond special who made me realize what iris meant
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