Some people write about  regrets
Some write about  mistakes
Some about  heartbreaks
Some sorrow

Others people write about discoveries
Others write about nature
Others about  striving
Others surviving

No people write about  the racket of silence
No one writes about  knowing their feet by heart
No one about  the night of black snow
No one the tip of the iceberg

In the Roman Empire
it was
I know that guy Jesus
hey so do I
now it's funny to watch peoples faces
"I'm an atheist"
"So you don't believe in any god?"
"If God lives then where's that unicorn I saw roaming in the bushes earlier?"

Some day someone will buy the sun and charge to have sunlight

Top the reached you’ve mean doesn’t mountain the of top the reaching
Found be to mean doesn’t discovered be to
Affecting mean doesn’t saying
Mark a leaving mean doesn’t affecting

Imagination and/or a story

the starry nights let me remember
the shooting stars make me think
the bright moons do not let me forget
the flying fireflies want me to ignore
I cannot help but remember

I wish to have dreams
but wake up to nightmares
the darkness sends a shiver up my neck
the eerieness is like a demon lurking, waiting to invade
the quiet curtains of night scare me
the chirping crickets remind me

the sun has started to rise
but the light does not affect my eyes
because I have seen too much
I will not forget

Snip by snip I cut off each piece that was once apart of me

They fall to the ground
Roaring but unable to move

That’s the story of how I cut off all that was once left of me

I wanna be able to tell people to stop searching for the perfect one because I have already found it

The cycle repeats

the roosters are prepared
they know it’s coming

it rises
it only grows.

but gives itself away
so the other can shine too

they seldom meet
but know each other so well

Looking down at the feet he knows so well
caged by beady eyes,
his colors hypnotize the crows.
Dry straw his guts, is he the scarecrow they fear?
The eagle’s wings they envy?
The serene owl they loathe?

It’s his courage that grips their black eyes

A man once committed suicide by jumping off a bridge
He left a note saying
"I'm going to walk the bridge and if someone smiles at me I won't jump"

Sometimes a simple smile can save lives

Feet stretched across the bed
Relaxed
NO EXIT
a minute ago there was still no exit
a minute ago it was going out
now it's escape
How did I get in?

Some people need to
Live other’s lives before they can be greatful for their own

Whenever I cry I'm guilty
Am I allowed to cry when another's pain doesn't compare
I stare with a dropped jaw as others tell their hardships
Am I allowed to shed tears when so many wish to lead my life

Any person asked will say they can sit in their room for hours with plugs in
Listening to a tune of someone else’s creation
Then why is it so hard to read a poem?
Both someone else’s words
While songs are valued for their tune
Poems for their words  
A poem holds a story which a modern song can’t express

She saw you with another girl
I guess you were never mine
But I felt special in your arms
now I know other girls felt the same
Always on my mind, I only hear from you when there’s no others
But I don’t blame you cause I wouldn’t choose me either

hair ties tie hair
bus drivers drive buses
paintbrushes brush paint- paint through an empty canvas
filled by strokes of green orange and brown
with trees that hold canes and nests that hold wings
wings that carry letters- letters to the one your heart knows you've always loved
yet your mind seems to have forgotten
forgotten the color of their eyes
when you once knew where every freckle lies
lies - laying-always laying-laying in bed
dreaming with wide eyes
about the canvas that was once empty...

If life isn’t a race why is everyone running?

I feel so empty sometimes but I stay silent because I know people wish for a life like mine

I want you to tell me I’m more special than the other girls because I’ve never told myself that
Instead I tell myself he likes the others more why is there even others am I not enough that u need others to fulfill ur needs cause I can be the only one
Why do I give 99% when all you ever have was 1
You don’t even tell me hey is it embarrassment or timidness
You don’t even know the way you make me feel
Maybe I shouldn’t feel this way
Every time you call I come running back to you
I tell myself not a again but I can’t help myself
My friends tell me don’t do it
But I think maybe if I go with him again he’ll like me
But really there’s so many others who make him happier
I’m just the one there who’s there whenever you want something
Maybe one day I’ll learn to love myself the way I want you to love me

A fragile bottle is held by the ocean’s arms
It holds a scribble

All I really want is someone who admires me from afar as I pick a flower from the ground because it stood out in my eyes

an old couple lived in a small house one day they planted a seed
soon later they both passed away
the house forgotten, never became a home again
but the seed continued to grow
it grew to be the tallest flower in the yard

one day a stranger strolling by saw the bright sunflower
he brought it home and put it in a vase
placed it next to his bed
so that every morning when he wakes he can see it’s beautiful face

I’ve begun to use the bathroom with the light closed
Assuring my eyes don’t get a quick glance
Each day it gets worse
I tell myself things I could never tell another
I put on a smile and keep my head up
Others can’t know it’s severity
They wouldn’t understand anyway
Only now I realize how bad it’s become

Every girl I pass “I wish my thighs were like hers,” says the voice inside my head.
Get out
I want the love I had for myself
Now I pick up my shirt in front of the mirror every morning
Maybe today I’ll love myself a little more
The same voice as the day before
Telling me things I don’t want to hear anymore

The true ruler of the word
Why did we unanimously fall under its control

I’m sorry that all u got was me

Searching for something to write
Pen in hand
I rewrite other’s words
To pass by time
Some write their story and others sing theirs

but me

I have not a story to fill these pages

When asked “when you imagine yourself as the you you want to be” within a split second I had the answer, simple and straightforward. skinny

I have drawing to cure my sadness and music to guide my joy
What about when I feel empty
Maybe that’s not the word, I don’t know