A pen is blue, black, red, green
It is your life written out
And unwritten
Words that you would
never say.
Things that you will
never do.
A pen is full of good things
and bad things
All compressed in ink
A pen is full of unfinished thoughts
and unwritten stories.
This pen will write my story.

On Monday, i am invisible;
nobody seems to know i exist.

On Tuesday, i am a glass door;
visible, but sometimes forgotten.

On Wednesday, i am a three leaf clover;
nothing special.

On Thursday, i am a camera without a memory card;
there, but unwanted.

On Friday, i am a pea;
noticed, but ignored.

On Saturday, i am a fun-sized candy bar;
respected, but never good enough.

On Sunday, I am a queen.
I have survived another week in my life,
and it feels amazing.

Until ten o'clock at night
when i realize in nine hours i will be invisible again.
I try to enjoy my last moments as queen,
but it’s hard to pretend when reality hits you.

I cannot decide if i like Sunday.
It is like a bag of chips.
In the beginning, they are both pleasing.
You have no school for the second time that week, you have a deliciously unhealthy, but wanted, snack.
But then,
you realize there is school tomorrow, you realize you have been defrauded and the bag is practically empty.
They always end in disappointment.

I cannot decide if the good balances with the bad,
or if one is overweighed.

I cannot decide if i prefer six and a half days of disappointment,
or half a day of bluffing myself.

I cannot decide if i like being queen,
or if it is a waste of time.

I cannot decide if pretending is superior to knowing what i am.

I cannot decide if life is enjoyable when it is like a broken record,
the same situations repeating over and over.

Because before i am able to decide on anything,
i am too busy being invisible again.

I
Am
So
Bored

Civic
Studies
Oh
My
Lord

Droning
Teachers
Boring
­Class

Chances
Are
I
Will
Not
Pass

Half
The
Student
Fell
Asleep
­
Zero
Knowledge
They
Will
Keep

Civic
Studies
What
A
Bore

Good
T­hing
I
Like
English
More

Not black but a fading grey
A low perspective
I see as a child
Only in colours
And my own vocabulary
And with only my tone
I talk to the world
And it talks back while it twirls
And I'm back to just being a little girl
With the soft air holding my hand
Walking me through
Talking me through
Because I'm still scared of being alone
I need you
And i'm skipping but i just don't show it
And Im laughing but my mouth fails to move
Fails to do
Anything
Because i lost the world
I lost the air
And i lost you

I gave blood today; I wanted to be a Good Samaritan, help those in need. My blood, after all, is healthy, pure. The thing is though, is that as I watched my life slowly ebb into the pint-sized plastic bag of rescue, I was imagining how lovely it would be for all of it to flow out, into a bag, into the bath, into the universe. To be empty, weightless, cold. As the blood pulsed out of my veins and my arm became weaker, I wished for my eyes to close and for my thoughts to slow down, for the discombobulate realm I call my life to slowly disappear or at least evolve into a breathtaking pasture of wispy freedom. Once my arm was emptied and the possible end was stopped, they told me - drink up, drink up, eat up, eat up - replenish the sugar and tiny hemoglobin cells that I so gracefully supplied. I took hold of the juice, and I took hold of the cookie, but once out of sight, I tossed them to the side. I wanted the feeling of faintness, dizziness, the insecurity of being caught in between two worlds. And as I sit here now with a muted mind and a slight headache, I am slightly pleased.

I wake up in the morning
To your pretty amber eyes,
Caress your lovely face
While my heartbeat's on the rise.

You catch me off guard
Everytime you lean in and kiss me,
Because how could I, a guy like me,
And a lovely girl like you come to be?

When you turn around
To look or catch my attention,
Baby, it's always yours.
You'll always have my affection.

I fell in love with a boy at a coffee shop
who always ordered vanilla chai.
I knew it was love because I could
never get up the courage to speak to him.

I fell in love with a bony fingered,
anorexic boy in my math class.
I think it was the way he did the problems in his head,
so he could use the paper for listing
everything he wanted to eat that day, but wouldn’t.

I fell in love with a girl who had dreadlocks
and burn marks on her neck.
I always fantasized about touching them,
asking if they still warmed up her skin.

I fell in love with the older man at the tutoring center.
I failed Spanish so that I could spend the next semester
eye ******* him from across the study table.
I've always had a thing for married men.

I fell in love with girl who pushed up her
*****, and pouted for football players.
It may have been unrequited,
but at least I didn’t catch anything.

I fell in love with the person
who left death threats in my locker.
I’d never known someone who felt
the same way about me as I did.