I write songs about negative things. I write about it because I need to take those things and put them on paper. I have to do that because I'm taking it out of myself and putting it away. Not away in the back of my mind, but away as in away from me for good. It's the way I deal with things. I don't really write songs about happiness or joy. I don't have to deal with those things, it's there. I don't have to get them out of me, I want them here. I'm not focusing on negative things, I'm focusing on being happy and joyful all the time that I can. Don't get me wrong, I'll probably write songs about positive things in the future. Although, right now, somehow, negative is rhyming better than positive.

There are days when
I feel like
I am the girl
That doesn't know how to be strong
I am the mess up
That is broken and bruised
I am the monster
That hurts everyone
Then I have to remind myself that none of that is true
Because in the end
I am the Phoenix
That rises from the ashes
The queen
That stands tall when her crown is heavy
The warrior
That knows how and when to fight
The leader
That knows how to hold power in her hands and still serve
The ocean
That knows how to rise
The sun
That knows how to shine
The moon
That knows how to be dark
The land
That knows how to shake you
The storm
That knows how to be calm
And most importantly
I am the child
That knows how to bow at her Father's feet

I don't talk about my opinions too much
Not really
People may say I'm opinionated and yet they've only scratched the surface
There are a lot of things I'm willing to fight for and against
But I am a firm believer in choosing your battles and waiting for the right time to say something
And if it so happens that I somehow choose my battle to be against you

Run

And Know this
It'll **** for you when the right-vibed and strong-minded people stop being complacent

I'm pretty sure the neighbors Windows shook too
I'm fairly sure they heard the screams
They were inside their own house but I'm pretty sure they could sense how wet it was
It came fast and lasted all night
It was rough and loud
And now here's morning
And It was too small to have gained a name in anyone's book

The wind shook the whole neighborhood
It whistled so loud it almost gave me a headache
Even from the inside, the rain still had an effect
There was no storm warning for it to have lasted so long
The lightning and thunder took a toll on those afraid of it
And now it's after the storm
But it didn't cause enough destruction to be named after a woman

I was talking about the storm the whole time, what did you think I was talking about?

Head pounding
Can't sleep
And I can't even blame it on a hangover
Or last nights regrets

They say "I'd go to hell and back for you"
But baby I'd never have to
Because Hell isnt a place where angels go

I feel the sun rays encompass me, I feel them on a wavelength where it seems that all I would have to do is open my mouth and I would finally be able to physically taste the sun. That's what summer does to me, it makes me go insane with ideas such as this.

I want to be the girl who makes the sun fall out of your sky because it was burning you. Only for me to come in and shine, maybe not as bright, maybe not as big. But I want to be the girl that illuminates your sky with the kind of light that you love. I want to be the one you stare at no matter how big the distance between us. I want to be the one you take interest in no matter what phase I'm in. I want you to look at me like I'm the most beautiful thing in the world even when I am almost completely shadowed by my dark side. I want to be the girl you howl your songs to. I want to be the girl that's there for you always. And I will be. The problem is that the sun is fighting for you too, and after awhile it will drop me from the sky as well. It will take you over and hide me from your sight. I want to comfort you, but you are so far away. I want to look in your eyes and tell you it's alright, but that's hard to do when you're too busy avoiding the sky because it burns with a light that hurts you.

I feel like some of the best books are the ones hardest to describe.

Sometimes I have to remind myself
I'm not better than you.
I'm just better than who you say I am.

When you tell yourself:
"I can't do this"
Say "without You"
At the end
While pointing towards God.

They call me a rebel
They might be right
They could be wrong
It's possible I'm innocent
But they'll never know
Because I'm sure they'll never wait and see

I'll fight for what I mean
I'll fly above above the pain
Cause right I'm flight or fight mode
But I've been one to chose one or other

I'll wish when the clock strikes 11:11
But I know one of the elevens ran of with 7
And the other crashed into 9
So I'll just sit here with a clock in my hands

I have several different worlds
That are all part of my life
I hate when they collide
They'll never understand my worlds

I'm tired of not truly being heard
They only listen when they want to fight
They try to prove me wrong
Only to realize that I was right all along

She be actin fly
like she outta this world
Really she's just fakin
She don't wanna be hit
By the big bad world

I feel out of control
I feel out of my mind
I feel lost in time
I feel like I can't take this much longer

I feel these tears Rollin down
Like a train on its tracks
I feel a train wreck coming
I feel I'm gonna breakdown

I feel my feet pulling me to a place I don't know
I feel trapped in a place that's supposed to be home
I feel like the towns line is too far to reach

I feel too familiar with these walls
I don't hear God talking back at all
I feel like He ain't gettin my calls

I feel so done
It's out of my hands
Which is why I have to put it in God's
Because I can't do this on my own

I feel tired of fighting
I feel numb to the world
It can knock me down
But I'll stand to fight again

I feel my soul
Standing in the wind
Not afraid of the storm within

I feel my heart
Beating strong
Holding on to hope

I feel my mind
Strong as ever
Not afraid of the fight

I'm not sure if I can fight to stay alive
Or even if I'm willing to die
I'm at the point where I just don't know
I so wanna fly
But I'm stuck on the the ground
I want to just float
But the waves reach for me
I need to run
But I don't know what I'm running from

I lead a lot of different lives
I hate when those worlds collide

You see me in the streets I got my ripped up jeans and a face that says "look but don't touch"
See me on my mean machine with my leather jacket with a look you're scared to decipher
See me in pink I can talk like I own being a blonde
See me in a dress, ha that'll never happen, but if somehow it does you'll see I can wear formal as an expression
See me on a horse with my cowgirl hat, you'd think I'd never known any other life
With only back roads and the stars to keep me company
See me with paint on my face or my hands covered in lead, you'd think art was my life
See the pages and pages I've written you'd think you've had to of seen my work because no one that's written that much couldn't be published
See me in my room doing homework and you'd believe I'm a nerd and that's how I've only always spent my life
And there's so many more
The point is, you can't look at me once and fit me with an accurate stereotype
I've been everything
I can change in an instant with simply putting on a hat and losing a jacket
To actually know every side of me, you'd have to see me more than you think

I can't do this much longer
Every day I feel my back shrug a little more
I feel my voice going silent
I feel my soul being beaten to a pulp filled with only my blood
I feel imagination being ripped from me
I feel my feet dragging
I feel my heart shrinking
I hear my mind screaming
**I feel tortured

That's all I ever do in these classes;
I memorize
I never learn
I simply carve things on the edge of my mind
Only for them to fade away after the week long war
The unfortunate thing is that these memories die in these short battles that I have to live through every single week
It doesn't end for me

I sit in these classrooms feeling my soul taking punches
Being bruised constantly
Never fully healing

I spend my days in these classrooms surrounded by halls that I wait to escape from
Only to have to come and spend my time doing homework

I swear one day though
It will end

I'm tired of being people's punching bag
I'm the thing they practice all their moves on
Beating me senseless with every new torture technique they find
What they're trying for though isn't boxing
It's a game that ends you
They **** me everyday
Trying to prepare themselves for a war
I go through a war everyday day and
every night

I used to think I was strong
Used to
But apparently other people haven't stopped thinking that because they keep coming back
They don't come back for me
They come back for what I can offer
The only things they give me is
Pain-filled company
Beatings
Heartache

Maybe they don't actually think I'm strong enough and that's why they keep coming back
They leave thinking I'm broken
Only to return and find out they were wrong
I'm not sure if that's good
I'm not sure if it's good that I won't break
Because it doesn't feel like it
It feels like I'm losing
I hate losing
But I don't know how to win this war

They're supposed to be training to fight in a different war
They supposed to fight with and beside me
But they throw punches my way
I don't know how to fight back
Should I?
They're supposed to be my friends
Maybe I'm wrong and they're trying to simply break down my walls

I built strong walls
I know that
It was on purpose
I would love for someone to try and break them
I want  someone to fight for me
But why does it feel like they're fighting against me?
I want them to tear into me and find my soul; to connect with it
What it seems like they're doing is beating me so I can no longer stand
That way it's easier to **lay my head in the guillotine

I see things talking about how when people die their story has ended
And yet, how many poets wrote their life away only to be known after they passed?
How many painters brought color to everyday life, only for it to be truly seen after they're long gone?
How many writers took a pen and wrote their last breath on paper, only for it's brilliance to take life after they died?
How many more will have to suffer this same fate?
To live a life of passion in art, only to be written off?
Then, to be seen from beyond the grave
How many more will only be heard when they have no more breath to speak with?
How many more will only be understood when death takes their ability to stand?
So please, don't tell me that when death takes me, I will have lived the last word in my story.

It wasn't supposed to the sun and the clouds
Our world wasn't supposed to be a sky blue
It was supposed to be me and you

You could've been my moon
And I could have been your stars
Our world was supposed to be a midnight blue
But it's no longer me and you

Because your smile was the sun
That lit up the day
You're a boy who's so bright

But I need a man who will be the light when my world is dark
Who will see that when all the stars combined they were bigger than him

But I will need a man who will stand by me and show I'm not the only one in the sky
Someone who sees me as a masterpiece
Instead of irrelevant white, burning fires

I know that one day you'll make a girl incredibly happy
But that girl is not me

Because you are the boy that sees the light in everything
I am the girl who sees the moon, the stars, the dark, and the soul
And I need a man who can stargaze with me

Are you ever reading something you wrote and you're kinda just like
Dang! I am good! Why don't other people see this brilliance?

I can have really sarcastic conversations
I can insult people and have insults thrown right back at me
I can talk about the world, mysteries of life,  I can have deep conversation
I can even do pickup line wars
I can flirt if I have to
I can have an intelligent conversation
Or I can ask a million questions about you and answer all the ones you have for me
I can psychoanalyze someone and tell them about it
But please don't try to make small talk with me
Not only do I hate it, but I am sincerely awful at it
So I almost beg you to never ask "how is your day going?"
Unless you want the whole story with every sincere thought and the expectation that you will give me the same heartfelt answer

I like to use my voice in the silence of a page and a pen.

1,2,3,4
We're already in a war
5,6,7,8
In the world it seems there's too much hate
9,10,11,12
It looks like most people have a helve
13,14,15,16
I guess they're right when they say the world is mean
17,18,19,20
Most people are worried about what's trendy
At the same time they're walking dead, left bruised and empty
21,22,23,24
People hide behind their stage door
While thinking we're all done for
25,26,27,28
I honestly don't think that's our fate
On our generation, let me give you an update

Yes, a lot of us are ******* up, but you have to understand that a lot of us would go out of our way to make sure no one else will feel that way.
Yeah, some of us are bullying and getting in fights, but some of us are fighting for what we believe.
Some of us are so ready to give.
We have our hearts in God, our minds sharpened for a fight if need be, and our eyes on real goals.
So please stop saying we're doomed, because I don't think we are.

I saw a video of a guy rapping about his mom that passed away
He's questioning God
And before you even judge
I know at one point we've all been that way
He's reaching people with his words
We could be doing the same
Instead you people sit in these churches
Talking about nothing of importance

And it's
*******
**** one
**** two
Yeah you heard that right
you're a zero in my book

Without art, the heart is a he.

I don't mind you reading my heart, as long as you don't know my name.

I know that when you talk too much people will start disregarding what you say. The problem is I can't decide when it's my time to speak. So I stay silent. When do I fight, how do I know what battles I need to win in order to win the war?

God, help me
Because ten minutes ago I was happy and excited for the whole year
And now here I am with tears streaming down my face and a lack of motivation to go to sleep and face tomorrow
I'm to that point again where I just don't know
So God, please help me

It seems mom texts more than she looks me in the eyes
It seems my brother watches videos more often than he watches me strive to be a good example for him
It seems my dad is too focused to point out the mistakes in my papers than to actually see any type of meaning behind them
And none of them know how many poems I've written
No one knows just how many tears have been dropped on every handwritten page of words that I hope one day might actually make a positive influence in the world
No one knows how much I want these poems, these lines, and these words to actually connect with someone
Anyone
So I guess I'll just keep writing
I'll keep searching for the link between our eyes
I'll keep trying to be the influence he needs
I'll keep writing meaningful papers until they click with the unreached part of his mind
I'll keep writing
I'll keep living every moment
Writing every thought I think good enough for someone to see
I'll keep going because I can't stop even if I wanted to

I love writing. It's one of many forms of art. It allows me to tell a story that, technically, has already told before. The thing is that it's never been written by me. That's what makes it unique. That's what makes writing great.

Please stop saying its a stupid mistake. Because for me it's the right choice. You may not get it but I'll try to explain. I get that it might cost more money. I need you to understand though, I can't stay in this place. This town, at this time, seems too small for my dreams and God's plan for my life. I need to get out. I can't spend a year more than I have to stuck in these classrooms and these halls. It's not right for me. I can't go through eighteen more months after this semester with these people. Let me say this though: I've connected with a lot of people here. All of them have gone away, finding their own paths. Some I pushed away because I knew they weren't for me. I don't want to have to push you away, but the way you keep talking might just push me to that point. Honestly, I love connecting with people, but this town is too small for that. I want to travel, I want to see as much of the world as I can. On those roads going anywhere, I want God to point out the one I should take. I can't do that stuck in this world, this box, that you try to keep me in. I suffocate in these rooms. Luckily, I am tall enough that my head breaks through the ceiling. What I see past this place are passions and other places that I want to see. So you can stay in this town where nothing happens. Stay on the roads that will take you no farther than you've ever gone. Maybe that's enough for you. Not for me. Why can't you understand that I need out?

Have you ever felt like you don't know yourself
So everyday you put on a mask of who everyone else wants you to be
Have you ever been lost in a sea of faces
and you get to the point you don't know which one is yours

I think a lot of the time the reason people are so unprepared for life is because they get too busy avoiding it. We need to take life before it even has the chance to take us. They say they don't want to grow up too soon, not realizing that they don't have to. But they need to know what's going to hit them. Don't let life have the first hit, because it will knock you down.

They say I'm a bit sentimental
I think I'm probably just mental

All I know is I don't wanna grow up
But I don't want to go back to the past
I wanna take all my favorite memories
Put them on a loop to make them last

You say I'm too young
You say I'm too old
Make up your mind
Cause right now I'm making up mine

I think that life, in its purest form, is simply a giant game of improvisation. You can plan and plan and plan, but at the end of the day, in that moment, the words you say, the day you have isn't something you can plan. It's something you have to go with, a story you write as you go along. You can't memorize the lines to a story yet to be written. It's a moment by moment life. I think a lot of people forget that.

Tattoo me like my favorite pages from every book

Apparently it's wrong for the girl in the leather jacket to be the most innocent in the room
I don't mean she doesn't know bad things go bump in the night, and the day, and in every alley you look in
I mean she still believes there is good in the world
But apparently she can't think that
Because society has said that because she wears a leather jacket and is six foot tall she can't be innocent
What they don't know is the leather jacket is her coat of arms against the big bad world
It's the weapon that goes well with her height
The height and black leather are quite the pair that become her
But society also thinks that leather is synonymous with bad and bad must mean she's a liar
But the thing is she doesn't lie that often, only once in a blue moon
But they don't believe that to be true
Because apparently it's a lie too
Maybe this time it's not the leather
Maybe it's the makeup she wears everyday
Because that must be hiding something
It has to be a disguise
But the only thing it hides is a cup
In an ocean of her insecurities
So instead it might be her heavily eyelined eyes
The ones where she uses eyeshadow to shadow some of the storm in her eyes
Because people are afraid of the shadow of a storm they still see
She's found that they love it too though
People often love to stare at things they think are dangerous and beautiful
The kicker is the dangerous part
People stay away from that, whether it's really dangerous or not
So they stare and they talk behind her back
She knows this because people have told her
Weird thing is that she hasn't heard anything hurtful about her
Maybe it's okay though
Because momma always said children are to be seen and not heard
And I guess that's true because I haven't really been heard in a long time
Maybe it's all okay though
Maybe one of these days they'll recognize her name when they come across it in their magazine or news feed or whatever else they're reading
Maybe people will finally realize that everything about her is so much more than a leather jacket, her height, stormy-blue eyes, and blonde hair
Maybe they'll find out once and for all that blondes are smart too
They might discover this when they read one of her poems, or books,
Hear one of her quotes,
See one of her paintings or drawings,
Maybe even a sculpture or two,
When they hear one of her songs
Or one of the thousand other things she loves to do
They'll realize they saw her everyday and walked the same halls as her
Maybe even shared a class or two with her
Or maybe those won't be the things they realize
Maybe they'll see that those long legs carried her out of the small town
That everyone talks and dreams about leaving
But never actually get the chance to
It won't happen for two or three more years though
It's okay
It will just give you more time to learn my name
And realize that apparently this girl that you judged solely based upon her looks is so much more than that

Toxic things don't freeze. Which is why I wonder why it is that when I found you, your heart was already frozen.

"I would love to say that I made you," he said, "but all I did was see an artist's hands, and gave you the tools."

You can try and take the limelight. The real stars shine all on their own.

You climb a ladder only you stand on. Yes, everyone has their own ladder. But ladders only go so far, they only stand as the road to your destination. So tell me, did you choose the ladder based on how high it goes, or what place it ends up in? Because those, my friend, are two entirely different things.

Everything goes hand in hand
Just to tear me apart
And I'm alone with my thoughts again