I'm afraid to speak my mind
because I'm afraid I'll offend
So I keep it all inside
Control the message that I send

They say not to hoard feelings
but don't you dare disagree
Because no answer is wrong
unless it contradicts me

My eyes are dead
My smile still shows
No one knows the pain inside my soul
You're the one who kills me the most
You're the one who makes my heart glow
You do both
But you do not know

I came to you in shadow.
Creeping into thoughts and poking holes in your perception.

But I'm just a pretty ghost.

My reflection I so often feel betrays me.
I paint my lips red because I have impenetrable walls.
You can't bust through,
So please don't try.

Hand held out to stop you.

But all I want to do is breathe your breath.
Inhale your sent and allow myself to do what I do best.. Discover.

Wonder surrounds me.
I'll always take a dare,
Yet I couldn't take you.

In all honesty my tea set it shattered.
The tea party is forever on pause because like my tea ***,
I'm so cracked.

I’ve had trouble writing my stories, painting my pictures, singing my songs.  There was some unstoppable force pushing me down as the walls caved in.  It wasn’t until I saw the face of my attacker that the walls began to retract.  The face was my own.  Yes, I am my own worst enemy.  It has been said, it has been acknowledged, but not accepted.  What stopped me from doing the things I love so much?  Fear of failure.  Failure to whom? Myself.  No one would know if I had failed because they had no way of knowing where I was going.  No way of understanding where I’d been, or what I’d done.  Any attempts of doing so therein were quickly and efficiently disposed of, under the judgmental justification that people would not understand: I am my own enemy and I fear my enemy.  These stories, pictures, songs are all glimpses into my soul, windows to my conscious and subconscious.  Not only was I afraid of exposing myself to the world, of letting all my secrets out, but I was terrified of what I would discover in myself.  Well I found it, and I like it.  I’m not afraid of me anymore, and soon I will not be afraid of you.

When I was eight years old,
I overlooked a moment of compassion
And challenged the will of a fellow third grader
Compelled by my ignorance
She gave the most astute summary of my life ever uttered.

When I was eight years old,
A frizzy haired girl asked me an impudent question
A question of infinite importance:
How do you sleep?
How do you sleep at night, since you know yourself?

When I was eight years old, my arrogant mind brimmed with resentment
Reaffirming that I,
I, apart from my arrogance,
Was the best person I knew.

I was eight years old, and a prophet had spoken.

Eight years later,
I long to be swallowed by the sheets
Eyes stare mockingly at the dormant ceiling
Clinging to the handrails
As my train of thought
Careens off the tracks
Exploding in a cloud of terror and regret

Eight years later,
I long for the simple arrogance of my eight year old mind
I long to close my eyes
And remember nothing

Because today,
Today I am sixteen
And tomorrow I will be twenty-four
And the next day I shall be eighty

When I'm eighty,
I'll stare at the bleached walls
Succumbing to the force of the past
As it consumes the present.

When I turn eighty-eight,
I'll look to the end of my starched bed
And He shall smile
Saying, "Well done!"

I hope I lie, when I'm eighty-eight,
Because If I am honest
If I tell the truth
I do not know who he is
And I never have
I will be cast away
because, eighty years before,

When I was eight years old,
I was arrogant
But still innocent
eighty years from death
and eighty years from shame
I could have heeded those words
The words of the frizzy haired girl

When I was eight years old,
I could have decided
I could have had him sing me to sleep
I could have died entirely unlike myself.

Now that I'm sixteen,
I still do nothing.

I used to look at you.
I used to look at you and think.
I used to long for imagined nights
consisting of warm fire places, hearty
dinners and familiarity. I used to picture
a farm. A farm with goats and rabbits,
and vegetables in a garden, With a
wind turbine in the front made
of car parts, Nevermind that
I don’t know what a turbine is.
With a grey water system and a
compost pile, And the crown jewel
of all of this; You in my arms, smiling at
me, and laughing. Working beside me for
this life. Working together to build this dream
And now I think of you, and I imagine for you.
I imagine a log cabin on a lake surrounded by trees
A lot of different trees and you can name them all.
The trees almost kissing the water at some spots
And the cabin is tidy and well put together.
There are compost bins, and a garden.
It’s gorgeous. The kind of gorgeous
that you have always appreciated in
nature, The same kind that you had to
show me. The lake is smooth and clean,
and there is a tiny airplane docked
on it, because there are no roads
to this place. I would think that
you’re isolated, but you think
you’re surrounded. It’s all in what
you value, I guess.  If you go up to the
cabin and you knock on the wood door,
a girl will open the door. She used to be me
but now she’s someone else. She would invite
you in and you would accept. She makes you happy
and to be perfectly honest, that’s what I want for you.

Do not stand at my grave and weep..
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awake in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft star-shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry..
I am not there. I did not die.