You.
you have betrayed me
and underestimated me
and overestimated me
and hurt me
and abused me
and took me for granted
and hated me
and laughed at me
and tempted me
and taunted me
and shut me out
and hidden me
and drowned me
and suffocated me
and wronged me.
What you don't know,
my idiot friend,
is that you are loved.
You are getting all that you deserve.
You receive what you put out.
If you want happiness,
therefore,
all you need to do is put it out
for everyone else to grab.
If you want love,
love everyone and everything.
If you want trust,
give it.
The more you give,
the more you receive.

My breath comes shorter
as my eyes darken.
I see most nothing.
The soles of my feet feel like
I just landed on the jagged rocks
of the ocean floor and my head
feels like it was slammed against
the asphalt.
My hands are so dry the skin is
cracked and blood seeps through.
My finger tips are dripping blood.
I reach out, searching for anything to grab onto
but there is nothing.
I grow cold.
I hear twigs snapping and leaves brushing
and a croak of a chuckle
lurking behind my fog.
I scream a piercing scream,
somehow silent to all my memories,
everyone I once knew,
everyone who thought they knew me.

It's over.
After all the fights.
After all the laughs.
After all the tears.
After all the photographs.
After all the memories.
After all the yelling.
After all the connecting.
It's over...

It came and I was happy.
I let everything go,
dropped my baggage and danced
like the rare sun showers.

But now the sun has set,
leaving me in the rain,
in the cold, trying to breathe
through the blistering air.

The sun must come up
just as the grass must grow.
But until then,
I stand shivering almost alone.

Bursting and floating, an open bubble.
Never falling, never popping,
she went and went, along with the wind,
carried by the swiftness.
Storms had hit before- yeah they were long and cold.
But she never popped.
She was fluid, she was careful, she was carefree.

A storm.

Louder, and colder,
longer and harsher,
it whipped her layer by layer,
snapping her bursting, floating self.

The bubble scattered.

A piece here, a piece there,
and a brick somewhere far.
Left in the rain, under the shady trees.
Left in the cold, in the bare field.

Where did she go? they ask.

Away. Far,

far,




away.

Yesterday we laughed
and smiled
and talked for hours
about everything
about absolutely nothing.
Yesterday we ran together,
hand in hand,
throwing our heads back
at those who couldn't touch us.
Yesterday we danced
and played
and watched and listened.
And today?
Today we scream,
deaf to each others' roar.
Today we push,
shoving each other down,
stepping on everything we can.
Today we are angry,
hurt because of the betrayal,
fed up with trying and failing.
Tomorrow?
Tomorrow is blank.
Tomorrow we might not be there,
onto our own lives,
hands incapable of reaching each other.
Tomorrow we look at each other
meeting eyes, divided by windows.
Either we turn away,
or punch through the glass,
jump out of the window,
and look for a different route to yesterday.

They smile and laugh
and smile
and laugh.
They toss their heads back
and smile and laugh.
Their smiles are big and bright
blaring down on me,
blinding me,
hurting my head.
Their laughs are loud and roaring,
obnoxious and taunting.
They slap me this way and that.
Rub it in my face.
I scream as loud as I can,
but they don't listen.
I hit has hard as I can,
but they don't feel it.
I want it too.
They keep laughing.
They keep smiling.
I want to wipe it off their faces
and keep it for myself.

Mine is gray.
One color.
The same shade.
Never different.
I turn to the left
and see the sun
I turn to the right
and see green grass
I turn back
and I see orange heat
I look ahead
and I see a palette.
I hate this gray.

There is nothing more frustrating
than being terrible at something you love.
However,
there is nothing more satisfying
than doing that something you love.

Some is loud.
Some is quiet.
Some is fast.
Some is slow.
Some is rhythm.
Some is lyric.
Some is all in one.
Some you can't stand to hear.
Some you can't live without.
Music has a lot to say,
with or without lyrics.

Chaos and confusion cloud all my paths.
I can't tell what unfolds before my way.
No sight stacks on until comes forth my wrath.
If life does not clear up I am astray.
I tumble all around until I fall
and I do not know where I am going.
I just stumble as I wait for the call
that will guide me into the all knowing.
But soon all will be clear and I will see
the light of day and mystery of night.
With new eyes I will be brand new and free,
and I will laugh and sing with all my might.
        Right now I am anchored to the unknown.
        But someday I will know and be full grown.

There'a something going on
inside of me.
It's as if I am spiraling within,
craving to rise to the surface.
Outside I am bubbling,
reactive to everything
that touches me.
I am motionless,
a simple shell
amidst dazzling personalities.
They recognize my shell,
nodding in its direction and
it replies automatically,
as I keep spiraling beneath.

It keeps expanding
like a rubber band.
It's ever entrancing,
but it's getting out of hand.
There are too many.
It's harder to conceal,
and it's getting confusing.
How can I say what I feel
when there will be nothing but refusing
from all of them?

Do not sit on your knees
and hang your head down.
You are only wasting  our time.
It will not change anything.
She is strong enough
to carry the heaviest bag on her back
like when she was in the Army.
She is strong enough
to walk through any obstacles
life may throw at her.
She keeps her back straight
and her head up high
as she trudges on.
I look at her and I
admire what I see:
The confidence in her walk
and in her eyes,
the smile on her mouth
that meets her deep dark eyes.
She words extra shifts
to provide for her daughter
and her girlfriend.
She still knows true laughter.
Shunned family.
Ignored by old friends.
The profanity stabs at my heart.
Sorrow and anger has taken over.
However she believes
that the days will grow brighter.
The look of shame on everyone's face
will eventually go back to the warm smiles.
Yes, she is a lesbian.
This is not a reason for prayer.

Who am I to you?
Tell me what you think of me
Am I your friend?
Or am I just your enemy?
Tell me
Treatin me like ****
When we out in a group
But askin for help
When we alone in the same room
This ain’t right
You gotta make your mind
Before it’s too late and you run out time
But it’s your loss
Cuz im a really nice guy
See I even had the heart
to put you in this rhyme.
Don’t play games with me
Cuz your gonna get hurt
And don’t mess with this fire
cuz your bound to get burnt
now take this little rhyme
its already in full effect
but don’t take it personally
its just a reality check

So I think
You're a cool dude,
a dude I can trust.
A dude I can hate,
a dude I might love.
You make me smile,
you've made me cry.
I'd do anything
not to hear you lie
about the reasons you let me go
yet you hug me and say,
"No, I'm not letting go."
But you already have.
You did when you ended it.
Your decision.
Do you regret it?
Let me know. I don't care
anymore. I just want
to be in your arms forever.

“Speak English, please.
You are in America.”
Why should I speak English?
Does it bother you
that you can’t understand
The words I speak?
Why should I speak English
When what I say does not pertain to you.
It does not concern you.
Why do you care to know?
Why should I speak English
When what I say will get criticized
Either way?

I am that tree
Where ignorance is bliss.
I am the sky
Where everything floats through me.
I am the air
That blows this way and that.
I am that river
That flows forward and back.
I’m not just me
Because I am made of the sun,
Of the earth, of the ocean, of even you.
I feel myself in everything
Whilst feeling everything in me.

Outside my window is
misunderstanding.
A world capable of seeing
But not willing to accept.
A world waiting for something to happen
so it can be laughed at,
joked about.
Nothing is serious,
Nothing is real.
It’s not real only to those
Who are scared
Of trying on other shoes.

Fake
Like a Barbie doll
Plastic
Like how it was formed.
Stubborn
To the reality of things.
A variable
For the unimportant.
Changing
To better suit the outfit.
Ignoring
The truth that whispers to her.