At age 8* my teacher would ask me what I wanted to be when I grow up, so I told her a fashion model.
She laughed and wrote it on the board.

At age 9 I wanted to be a doctor along with half of my class.

At age 10 I wanted to be a teacher, they all told me it takes a lot of education and I would have to work hard in order to get there.

at age 11 I wanted to be an artist, they told me to pick something more realistic so I said a singer.
They said to stop playing games and choose a job.

at age 12 I was pretty hooked on the idea of a singer, so I sang
And I sang
And I sang
Until I believed that I was good enough to be famous.

at age 13 I was so confident about my singing
Until I heard their voices.
Most of the girls in my choir were reaching the high notes and their tones were so clear.
I gave up on that dream.
I knew I wouldn't be like them.
So I began poetry.
This was the year I wrote my first poem "nobody cares".
I showed it to a few really close friends and my sister.
They said it was really good, it got them emotionally and that was what I was aiming for.
At first the poem was about 2 pages long but I cut it shorter every time I showed it people because they told me what parts didn't make sense to them.
I took it as a way to improve my poem.
So then I started posting it on quotev, and tumblr, and now hellopoetry.
I wasn't expecting anybody to like it.
I continued poetry and now it comes to me so easily, I can write poems like I'm writing my own name.

at age 14 I told my teacher I wanted to be a poet and he told me that
"I needed to improve"
At age 14 I didn't know what I wanted to be.
Nothing was good enough
Nothing was realistic enough
Nobody gave me enough support to go with my dreams.
At age 14 I decided that I wanted multiple jobs.
I still haven't told anyone because I already know what they're going to say.

I do believe
Tonight, more than all others
The distance pierces my soul
A deeper depth
For each mile apart
A thousand punctures through
Still, after the red gums black
What is left
To course through my emptied veins
Is nought but you
The very life within me
The very beat of my heart
Your sweet breath
My only air
'Tis love that bridges the distance
But pain flows in rapids beneath
With you souls soar with angels
Anticipation of your return
Leads each day
As my smile is painted
With the memory of your own
Traversing the bridge
A tricky feat on stormy nights
The rain sparkles like diamonds
The moonlight never more beautiful
As in their reflection
Feeding the river
Yet, somehow, fortifying the bridge
Love is rooted deeply
Bound in eternal light
To a world tinged in darkness
A beacon within
Home is always in sight
If just out of reach
With eyes closed in slumber
United in bliss
Wrapped in the last time
Living for the next time
As much as it can be called living
Being stabbed by each
Of a thousand miles

I'm not saying that it's not gonna hurt
Because it does
It will
It will continue to hurt every single day
He will do things that will hurt
He will say things that will hurt
He will

But it's okay
It's a risk I am willing to take
It's a risk I am willing to embrace
I'd lay it all down
Give my best shot
Because I'm in love
Because I love
And knowing that it might work would have to be enough

Recession, what recession, I couldn't care a jot
You should check out all the money that I've got.
I don't need to work as my Dad's a merchant banker
And he's a fat cat too, what a greedy ******.

I look out my window to see the peasants grovel
In the dirt, starving in a filthy Council hovel;
I just sit and smile and sip at my Laurent-Perrier.
Long live capitalism, I just couldn't be any merrier.

Have you heard about old Erik Satie?
He was quite slim and not un fatti;
Son père was a Frog, his Ma a wee ****
(which must have given quite a shock
to his musical chums at the Conservatoire
where he wrote "Trois morceaux en forme de poire").

While sitting 'au piano' one fine day
At his Honfleur home so bright and gay,
Our Erik felt himself come over queer,
(le résultat triste de beaucoup de bière).
He hadn't felt so odd since he didn't know when
(that's when he wrote his "Gnossiennes").

Now I don't want you to think Erik was bent
That certainly wasn't what I meant;
But there's no doubt he was a little odd
(indeed many called him an asexual sod);
For, although French, he loved not the ladies
(and he also wrote three nice "Gymnopédies").

Many piano pieces which Satie penned
Are rather silly and round the bend;
One was called "Prélude for a Dog"
(which he wrote whilst sur le bogue);
Perhaps his best known work is called "Parade"
Which some people think is quite avant-garde.

He was a bit ***** and collected umbrellas
Which set him apart from saner fellers;
He had lots of velvet suits to his name
(and for some reason, they all looked the same).
But he over-did it on the *****, was often ******,
Thus he died prematurely, and is sorely missed.

Drown me in self pity
Fill me with gravel and confetti
And I won't scream and shout, or tell anyone about the sarcastic soliloquy

Dance me into a state of disbelief
Your unsteady heartbeat,
will without fuss or pout
Tell everyone about you and me.

Soothing sounds of future memories
Pictures painted in the glory of pain
The beauty found in such ethereal places
Is especially so in the desperation
Emerging from watching the truth
Of the other side of elation
Never absorbing the joy in the mundane
Finding it exceptional
Only when threatened by the violence of truth
Truth is a reminder of fragility in all things
Manifesting itself in the clear consciousness
Of the possibility of pure anguish
The very thought of the mundane being temporary
Of that  routine being ripped apart
Shredded in terrifying facts of probability
Need vs want is a privilege
The truth is evil
The only freedom that can ever exist is truth
Faced with the amputation of what was once meaningless
Transforms the mundane to profound
There will always be loss
There will always be an opportunity to be reborn
Perception is reality
Mood is a choice
Absolute truth is a fallen angel
Yet it remains something for which to strive
Life in retrospect is not living
Biding time between bouts of honesty
Treading stagnant water
Fulfillment does not dwell in the in-between
Satisfaction is not born of boredom
The world that surrounds each life
Is only what that life has built in its down time
For there can be both joy and pain in all things
Both apathy and interest in each new view
Emotions are a powerful thing, as is logic
Yet if they never marry, there can only be lived a half-life
Peace is born in the unity of all that we are

I hereby sing to Winter, to Death and to Fall,
to listen to the plea that rips through my throat:
to descend upon this bed, far from your own;
pour qu'ils arrachent vite de ma poitrine ta fleur
qui pousse depuis le coeur, mon corps traversé
par ses épines faites d'espoir, à force des larmes aiguisés.

I hereby sing to Silence, to Quiet and to Calm,
to please come and deaden the voices that call
with words so complicated, I cannot comprehend
qui poussaient de ta langue, bouche que moi j'ose désirer;
des phrases qui m'ont promis pouvoir la mer traverser,
des chants qui sortent de ****, des lèvres étrangers.

I hereby sing to Sleep, to Dreams and to Dark
to come to my rescue and let my lids abide;
that Morpheus he may take me by his hand to your side;
et même si ce n'est qu'Iris qui touche mes mains,
elle connaît tes seins, tes yeux, ton bassin,
et en mes rêves me laisse un cher gout à toi.

I came back for my own memorial,
I sat back and smiled,
only you could see me,
I knew you would.
Your eyes could not perceive but
you believed
and with your heart I met yours and you cried
deeply.

The blades of grass swayed,
and mostly everyone talked and laughed,
but you were hardly breathing.
I remembered now when I was a baby,
Teething, looking at you there was indeed, a nostalgic feeling
Bone cutting through flesh, inside being rendered
outward but I'm nothing, not anymore,
Just an apparition, a memory of that person I used to be,
And after a while your heart stopped bleeding,
And you closed your eyes and decided,
My smile was disheartening
And I died.
Oh, so quickly.