he had a cigarette in his mouth
that lingered at the tip of his lips;
the bottom one.
his eyes screamed of despair

yet his mouth said nothing;
bitter and harsh words leaked
out and without meaning

they meant something;
I'm currently racking through your brain,
while burning in your veins delicately.
I'll always be there,

waiting while;
your voice trembles like wings
and your bones whisper melodies, loudly
*loudly

It was then I had realized
why people listened to sad songs
stayed up all night waiting for late replies
they would get insecure when they see their person with another
how their world would stop when they see them
would get the butterflies whenever their lips touched
their day incomplete when they don't see each other
couldn't sleep when a big argument comes up
but become lovers again the very next day
how down they would be if they can't cheer them up
get all giddy when they hold hands
smiling like a fool when a thought of them comes up
how their life is complete when they are together
it was then I noticed
this silly and delirious emotions
are the great effect of loving someone

A picture captures a moment, a moment captures an emotion, and an emotion captures a thought.
This thought is released below*

   Listen to your heart and live to the beat, for its rifts can make paths through red oceans.

Feel your blood pump, as it fuels your brain, thus provoking your thoughts to recall the words of a poem written in the purest and most vulnerable state of mind
The mindset that lets your emotions surface from their sea bottom structures, because once upon a time you sank and could see bottom structures to hide away feelings in
So you did
Now your passion is in reeling them in to feel real
It feels ironic that you are now breaking those iron bars surrounding the things you once rounded up and surrendered to the depths
In fact, you still render them into the abyss so at times you can act, leaving your thoughts in the mist
It's beautiful, in its completely illogical sense that somehow after a full cycle you can see it's ingenious
Your muse is a renewable resource, and for every poisonous barrel that sinks, there is a little inspirational magic that floats back up and drives you to write tirelessly until your mind is again at peace
These words, like blood, are seen in all their power, at the surface
This art, like the vanes of a windmill going up and down, shall not die in vain, these arteries and veins run deep and drive me sane
Wherefore art thou, Axiomighty
I often ponder as I travel yonder
But I've grown fonder of the idea that I may never know
So long as for when it's complete
I have put on a show.

She was the Invisible Girl
Unseen by the world
and no matter what she did
no one ever noticed

She was the Invisible Girl
Unnoticed by those she loved
and despite what she's achieved
they never see her breathe

She was the Invisible Girl
Insignificant to her brothers and sisters
overlooked by her parents
she didn't have anywhere to turn

She was the Invisible Girl
I say was because
she's no longer invisible

You know what they say,
"You only hear her screams
Once she's dead."

The cold morning air taunted us while we waited.
I took a seat, book in hand and used the words to block out the outside world known as my reality.
I was quite content with how the words seem to wrap themselves around me, warm me, love me then I heard my name.
My name is the only thing that can take the words, twist the words, and break the words so they may come down, no longer able to protect me.
“I keep forgetting that you are gay, you don’t act it.”

Maybe it’s because when words are not enough to keep others out I flip the switch and act straight.
Maybe it’s because I know that expressing my true inner feelings could get eyebrows to raise and eyes to glare, could get people to snicker and laugh behind my back and have their hands protect the words that they let drain into others ears.
Maybe it’s because at home one dim glow of light in any shape or form could make my shoulder freeze as my mother turns to her phone trying her best to ignore me.
Maybe it’s because at school one friend might be the same as me but when their parents arrive I need to protect them like a mother bear protecting the young.
Maybe it’s because I like the things that I do, the things I say, the way I walk, the way I talk, the way I sing, the way I laugh, the way I smile at romance.
Maybe it’s because that’s just the way I am.

The shattered mirror tells the story,
of a girl who said she had no worries.
A girl who thought she wasn't pretty,
what a pity.

A girl who thought she wasn't thin,
or at least not thin enough.
A girl who would **** to hold someone's hand,
but couldn't find the love.

A girl who spent her Friday's alone,
in her bedroom crying.
A girl who didn't like the idea of living,
and preferring the idea of dying.

A girl who rose,
only to fall,
and lose it all.

A girl who took,
a precious life,
in the middle of the night.

The shattered mirror tells the story,
of a girl who said she had no worries.