Woven over every girls
heart
are the words,
*handle with care

There are 10 kinds of people in this world,
and binary accounts for them all.

They're happy and sad.
They're ones and zeros.
Villains and heroes.
Villains, yet not all bad.
Despite everything life decides to hurl;
Despite every brick ball of fear
Through the stained glass windows of their minds,
Through it all, they survive.
They're angry and glad.
They're happy and sad.

And in their duality, they're still smiling there
at your sharp hasty words
at your venomous hurt
that you wish so desperately they, too, shared.

colors that seem to define us
filled with black holes of ignorance
the bullets racing to meet one another
only to shutter twice
and cackle as ours collide
mine flood out
tears of black ****** salt
fog covering up my vision
waiting for the storms to clear
and as soon as the sun returns the warmth to my face
your eyes have disappeared

I know the face
inside every car that
passes my bedroom window.

Why do I feel so ****



lonely?





I'm surrounded by these faces
of people who I have known since
pre-school.
Yet I don't think they have ever met me.

I am a piece of shrapnel,
pulled from the angry fist of an angel,
who spent a lot of her time watching cars crash.
Wondering what we've made of creation.
but the metalworker feel asleep.
before he could finish making
me into something,
beautiful.

And when he woke up it was too late.
I can't change.
I hardened perfectly into that mold
the one that society said would look good on me.
So those people took one look at me and then
cut out their eyes.
No longer able to see what else
I might have inside.



So I live in the dark.
The girl who I am when I am alone
is not ready to be seen from the road.

She's not strong.
She's not ready,
not ready to explain the light
streaming from the windows
of the big white house around the corner from
school and the ice cream place.

Maybe she's to afraid that her light,
isn't really there, just something made up,
to give her hope that she has something,
to help her escape this
town.

But maybe she's afraid that her light...
will be too much of a surprise for those
drivers drunk on dreams.
Because being herself,
shouldn't end with
angry angles.

here's to those with seasonal affective disorder that made it through the east coast's incredibly long winter. and here's to those that didn't.

I had a dream that I could
Fly out of your reach
And you could never find me
I had a dream I was free
                     You had a dream that I was always in reach and
I would always return to you
And that you were all I knew    

While you were dreaming, I was leaving.
Because this wasn't love,
It was a jail for the worst.
And maybe your dream would've come true,        
If I hadn't woken up first.

you call out
"god help us"
in the quietest voice,
and I hear in it a desperation to be heard.
it's the way a mother would die for her child, as if it were no choice at all.
and the same sort of love that it takes
to stand between bullets
and your sister.
it's how a husband will do anything and everything to protect his wife.
it's what matters.
it's the way it should be.
you would lie down your heart to save what it beats for.
and at the the end of the day,
at the end of time,
it will be what saves us all.