Sometimes I can fancy my mind,
as a glistening cage. Filled with beautifully
painted birds, fluttering about from bar
to bar. Feeding on the debris blown through
the thin golden bars. I find these birds to
be incredibly different, each of their
songs uniquely tuned.

The navy bird with blackened eyes, can bring
the cage itself to tears. While the pure white dove
fills the air with hope, and the rose-winged mocking
jay swells the heart.

In the corner rests the speckled bird,
a creature of random, jumbled notes. His eyes
stare blindly at the other birds. His voice screeching
over theirs without warning. Above and to the side
of him, sits a elderly gray-feathered gent. His
songs hint at paths already taken, happier
times now gone and past.

Finally, there is a creature, red as blood-bathed
rubies. Its eyes are ever watching, its wing always
pinned for flight. From her beak drips poison, a deadly
song slowly spun. Her temper suffocates the surrounding
air. Choking out the other birds if they should wander near.

All these birds sing their songs, fluff their wings and play their parts.
When needed most of all, they join in a chorus. Their voices
blending in disorganized harmony. I try to pick about the noise.
Piece together the notes and figure out the message. Yet, the only
lyrics that are ever clear, come tainted with the spit of my red
pet. Why must my thoughts be jumbled so?

When will my birds learn to live as one?

I want to be the crayon you choose.

You're staring at me- is it flecks of her irises?
Pixel fragments of your- your broken girl
singing in a car fatuous teenaged maddening
your beautiful agony one?

Her colours ran so deep, ocean, lightning,
I'm snared in pastel drapes, twisting, biting.

Does the bruised heart still beat
in your chest? Or in hers?
Is it that I have her poise when I walk?
Your ears- strain for her timbre when I talk?

When you hold me the tightest are you grasping at shards
of another doomed crossing of stars?
Is your future wrapped away
sterilized in gauze?

I've got a leaky rowboat to carry you
from a hurricane of nowhere.

I never want you to live up to her.

Don't you see? Don't you see?
How could I
-how could I possibly-
be brave enough
To let you love her and love her
with my little wolf heart?
Until your soul is spent
until she's torn you apart.

I -burn- to know your reckless, your passion,
in a home it can at last belong.

I howl to keep you, little fox
your heart starting fires safe in my den,
to let old love out.
To let new love in.

*what am I doing wrong?

Strong and sturdy,
like a well-believed lie.
Your arms stretch out
grasping for some kind
of truth. What has
your face seen? So
weathered and creased.
I wish I could fall
into you. Put my feet in
the earth. Grow as strong
in my convictions as you
do to withstand time.

Is it crazy to want your
strength? Can I put
my hands on your
roughness and myself
become rough? I want
my limbs to bear the
weight that yours do.
I want them to stay
strong through never
ending change.

Is it crazy to
want your strength?
A strength so rawly
beautiful and intense that
nothing short of
death could diminish
it?

I want to learn
your unspoken
lessons. I want to sit
and listen to the wind
whisper your secrets.
I want to hold a lifetime
of experience under one
stern mask. I want to
be strong and sturdy.
Like a well-believed
lie.

I wish I could stare down every girl,
and tell her that she is beautiful.
Tell her how she matters,
simply because she is here and she is alive.

I wish I could take away all her insecurity.
Because I've been there, through the darkness.
I've seen the pain, and hunger, and shame.
I would tell her that no matter how hard she tries,
no matter how much she starves herself,
the demons, they won't go away.

Because demons, they have a funny way of hiding.
Right there, inside that darkness.
No amount of purging will set them free.
No amount of blood shed will leak them out.
Demons hide in the darkness because there,
there they have power.

I wish I could shine a light,
for every girl who's ever struggled.
Because I know how hard it is to shine that light for yourself.
I would tell her that her demons, no matter how big,
are only shadows.
And shadows are always conquered by light.

I wish I could make girls see their beauty.
The beauty the world claims they don't have.
The beauty that demons,
brought on by magazine and commercial ads,
try to bury and hide.

I would tell them, every single girl,
that they are here, and they matter,
not because they are beautiful.
But that they are beautiful,
because they are here, and they matter.

Look at yourself
Lauren.
Look what you have done.
Look how far you've
fallen.
Look how far you've
come.

Look at yourself
Lauren.
Tell them what you see.
A woman so strong now
broken.
A girl so independent now
weak.

LOOK AT YOURSELF
Lauren.
Don't act like you're fine.
With the way you are
slipping,
you can't afford to
lie.

Look at Dean
Lauren.
Look at Lillian too.
They never got a
chance,
but that's not because
of you.

Look inside you
Lauren.
Look at your heart.
You would of loved
them.
But you weren't ready
to start.

Look at yourself
Lauren.
You are so strong.
He said what he
said,
but you know that he's
wrong.

You love him
Lauren.
That won't go away.
And if he comes
back.
Can you face what you'd
say?

Tell the truth
Lauren.
Yes, you were crushed.
And to forgive him might
be weak.
But I guesss that's just
love.

Look at yourself.

I am not a godly soul.
I am no fool to be told:
when to pray and how
to act. Breaking my back
for some divine pact.

But without god,
where are you?
Does that mean your
soul has withered, too?
You have passed
without us meeting.
But when I'm ready,
will it be you I'm seeing?

Or are you simply
bled and flushed.
Kicked out of my home
much too rushed.
My structures could not
bear your life. You're
cradle broke, despite my
plight.

I am not a godly soul.
No book of hypocrites
can tell me no.
I don't search for answers
in the form of prayer.
But I'd believe in god,
if I could have you here.

What blaze of fury has brought such decay?
Translucent hearts are all the color this picture
of hate. Can you see the broken ones? Can you
smell the hopelessness they wear like some
expensive perfume? Watch them cower and scamper
through bushes. Hiding their scorched skin like it's
something obscene. Watch as they scatter like marbles
from a child's circle. Building fire from scraps of oh-so
precious wood. Their smoke clouds the almost
non-existent breeze. What would their ancestors say?
Would they blush at the ***** rawness of this world?
Would they gasp at the events that brought us here?
Does it even matter? In the end the grass
is gone. The trees have died and the flowers have
fallen. Tell me what is sacred about this.

Where is the god you prayed to?

Let’s take everything we have,
and build a bridge up to the moon.
From parked cars to table tops,
apple cores and spoons.
The broken toys under our beds
can be the very base.
Our weathered dreams from child hood,
will hold it all in place.

We’ll race for broken window panes,
and empty trash can bins.
For boxes once used as forts,
and endless bobby pins.
Shampoo bottles tossed aside
will make such lovely rungs.
Bubbles dripping out their sides
smell of summer and bubblegum.

We must hurry before they all catch on,
and yell for us to stop.
They’re fearing broken bones,
that we won’t survive the drop.
But still we climb like furry ones,
monkeys in disguise.
Jumping up from bar to bar,
higher in the sky.

Quick! Reach for the balloons
we let go of much too soon.
Tie them to sides of our new
pathway to the moon.
Make it look like a carnival!
Make everyone come and see!
Our dreams have gone far past their reach.
We’re actually doing this, you and me.

And in this day we’ll accomplish more than they ever have.
Because today we took our dreams, and ran with them hand in hand.