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c n Jun 2018
I want to write.
I want to create.
But I rarely feel like I can.
I want my words to mean something.
I want them to be heard to the volume I expressed them at.
I want them to explode minds.
I want them to carry emotions.
I want what I create to be beautiful in a personal interpretational way.
I want them to educate.
I want less to be more.
I want them to make people feel.
...
Isn't selfish of I to hold back myself because I may not get what I want?
...
Isn't selfish of I to hold back one's voice because I may not get what I want?
...
Isn't unfair to my soul to tell it no because I may not get what I want?
...
Isn't cruel of I to bury my desires because I may not get what I want?
...
Is it not foolish of I to be thinking: I want, I want, I want...
when God has given me: You can, you can, you can.
c n Jun 2016
The feelings come flooding back,
they didn't even ask.
They tear apart your heart
and empty your soul.
Open your wounds
and leave you cold.
Your heart is emptied
and your eyes no longer can hold back
the tears.
You hate yourself
and ask yourself "why?"
He didn't do anything wrong.
You just fell in love.
c n Feb 2016
Once like a flower,
she bloomed.
The most beautiful, new thing in the room.
She had her head held high,
she constantly was reaching for the sky.
She always found comfort in the rain
and everyone wondered why,
but never thought twice.
She frequently lied,
to feel better inside.
But all those lies
held a deeper story inside,
Out of sight,
her leaves would fall.
She stood in front of the mirror
and wish it all would just disappear.
She was praised for her beauty.
She stuck her head in books,
but still,
she was only just looks.
Everyone wanted her precious petals,
so she gave them away.
If one didn't like the way she was,
she chopped a petal off.

She no longer possessed beautiful petals,
her mother laid her down in a silver metal.
Her father grasped her teddy bear
and cried.
Family questioned why,
days before she smiled bright and stood so high,
and now her body lies in a coffin six feet below
and just as the wind blows,
she glances down below
and smiles, "It's mine time to go home."
She's greeted at the gates
and thee brightest Light shines
and looks her in the eyes, "Hello, welcome home."

- c. n.
c n Feb 2016
Behind closed doors, there's something more; deeper than her personal art and healing heart. She's left only to herself. Her head that once was held head, fell and reality shook the room. The roar of laughter echoes and her insides shatter. Flaws are what make us whole. But for her, that's not how the story unfolds. Color leaves her eyes and she's no longer alive deep inside. The photograph that was once painted in color, faded to grey. -c. n.

— The End —