A Tree of Life with roots of evil will die in the storm,
before it’s ever born.
The sun will be its father, and it will be raised by mother earth.
If it soaks up knowledge it will survive its birth.
Sprouting ideas while growing its spirit.
There’s a whisper in the wind... be quiet and you can hear it.
Doesn’t need to fear it, when the weather gets cloudy.
It knows its true colors and reveals them proudly.  
It cannot be not shy, because when it looks around.
It realizes every other tree is similar,
Just different branches in the ground all waiting to be found.
Discovered and loved; nourished by nature.
It realizes its reflection is its only true stranger.
Covered with bark so you cannot see the inner.
Shadowed by the dark, transforms to a sinner.
A stump at worst, and a home at best.  
Too much is in between to explain the rest.
Now let it be known, when the red leaf falls,
It’s the end of a season for no apparent reason.
Time to change its ways; it won’t take a few days.
Give it time to mature to reach its full potential.
It sounds so simple, yet gets complicated.
When it timbers down, something new is created.
It went from a seed to sprout, conquered any drought.
Now with a shout of thunder, it just can’t help to wonder.
"Why am I here, and what is my purpose?"
But if it received the answer, would life really be worth it?

being so near to you
i can sense how close you are
with every fiber of my being
     but i am frozen
i try to move against my pain
and reach out to you
to just step across the stream
     but i am frozen
beneath the surface
a river courses through my veins
begging for you, pleading
     but i am frozen
now i have so many dams
made of sharp ice
though naturally i flow freely
     but i am frozen
i want to be with you
i want to be in your arms
*i want to be thawed
     but i am frozen~

I see them laughing at me,
the kids at school.
they ask a lot of weird questions,
like why do I look the way I look,
or walk the way I walk.
Sometimes I go home and enter a dark lonely place,
I create friends in my head.
they don't laugh at me,
or question every movement made,
or breath breathed.
I'm human,
just like all other beings,
I wish they would stop being so nasty,
and look beyond my disability.

If you are uncomfortable when you look in the mirror,
keep in mind:
We spent thousands of years
trying to convince the earth
she was flat.

We wrote her maps as evidence of the things we saw;
and she believed them.
She cried tsunamis, and had earthquake breakdowns.

Keep in mind: the Sun never gave up hope.
The earth will keep spinning and breathing
the star-dusty space void of encouragement.

Next time you look in the mirror
and second-guess your potential divinity,
remember you will keep shining and living.

Because the Sun is out there
believing in you,
compensating for lack of the human capacity
to treat each other empathically.

You don’t need proof or approval
to be exactly what you are;
Eventually everyone will see
your infinite beauty.

I wonder why everyone can't just
flat-out, God-blessed, love each other-
freely, purely, and explosively-
why are some people allowed to hold hands on the street
and others must keep it in the privacy of their homes
some bodies must be hidden and others can be exposed
some kisses must be kept secret from those who love you the most
some heartbeats must happen outside of your own house
some moments cannot exist in the presence of others
and some lovers can only love a certain type of other lovers.
Why is it that I must be fearful in a group of people
that they can see my brainwaves and know what I am feeling
and that it would be dangerous if they knew?
Why must it be this way that I have to be in the vast minority
and that the chances of me finding someone to love is
minuscule and difficult; everyone is at a different stage regarding
my certain type of love, and it carries a baggage straight people don't have
it carries a complication, a heartbreaking rope of knots and pain and confusion
and 'do I even feel this way' because you have been taught that you shouldn't
and 'why isn't there straight pride' and 'just don't shove it down my throat'
these type of misunderstandings create this impossible disharmony
'stop queering the straights' 'oh so you're basically a lesbian'
no. I am not a lesbian- please stop classifying me and while you're at it,
please stop acting differently around me because you're scared I'm into you
chances are, I'm not. Please stop asking me why it's necessary for me to come out and say it,
its because every single other person, me included, is assumed to be straight,
and makes comments about dating boys and just boys and it's this eternal 'no ****'
and my own parents want me to bear children and it's part of me, okay?
It's me and it's my self expression and it isn't shoving it down your throat
I just want to know that I can still be completely me and still be completely loved,
that's all, that's why I have to say it out loud,
because it carries with it a kind of suffocation that builds and builds
because everything around you pushes you down and tears at your foundation
and when you finally say it, there's a pain that's gone that you know will never hurt again
but it will always sting, little daggers when your friends won't get quite
as close as they used to and your mom gives you different looks in public
or I am constantly misunderstood and misperceived and it's scary, it's
a scary world for us, it's a scary world for us, it's a scary world for us
and it will be that way until we speak loud enough that we are heard.

Nothing says
"I love you"
More than
An
Anxiety attack.

"Listen, my life is nothing worth talking about."

It's a typically made remark, because I was so used to it. Yet there’s a fragment of my mind that wants to beg people to stay, to listen — because I miss the feeling of being valued. I'm a reclusive sociopath who basks in the thought of being alone, but I feel lonely too. The type of loneliness that eats away at my insides, devouring me whole.

"Your life does mean something.”

That's what I *want someone to say.
No, words are easy to say.

To reiterate, that's what I want someone to genuinely feel.
Hah, as if.

"Don’t lie to me," I would scoff bitterly, "you don’t give a **** and I know that. I can see right through you.”

This is partly true though, because not only have I grown insightful over the years, but I have experienced this one too many times. I might come off happy, but in reality I'm just insecure. I'm afraid, and I often find myself feeling depressed. Not that I would ever admit to such a thing, because I have always perceived this aspect of myself as weakness.

So I push some more buttons.
Who gives a ****, right?

"I don’t need your ******* pity, or your petty concerns. In a few years, I’ll probably be dead, and no one will care. People might pity me. They might worship me now, claiming me to be some type of ******* genius. They’ll feed me compliments. Yet what do I do with all of that? Can I ******* sell it? Buy a ******* mansion with it? Or, oh, I don’t know — a ******* stable family? Because anyone can buy someone with money, man. It’s so ******* easy, because people are superficial beings with nothing but greed corrupting the depths of their ******* souls.”

I know what it’s like to be lonely.
But to see it break me apart like this.
For some strange reason, I find it pathetic.

Comfort.
It's something I haven't gotten used to.
So I stare at my reflection instead.
In the mirror I oh-so-hate.

"I’m so sorry."
But am I really sorry to myself?
**Or is this just another excuse?