We are born crying
over the loss of our past life.

It sounds silly to complain,
every other girl would say I'm lucky
say I've got it in the bag,
that I've got things I thought I'd never have,
yet still I am not pleased,
for while my bank account as been eased
my heart
has not

Rhymes
tempo
  symbols
   diction
keeping the audience enthralled,
opening your heart,
cracking your eyes
perspective uncanny-
mainly a pile of crumpled papers

poetry is hard.

I'm so sorry
I'm so sorry
I'm so sorry
I'm so sorryI'm so sorry
I'm so sorry
I'm so sorryI'm so sorryI'm so sorryI'm so sorryI'm so sorryI'm so sorryI'm so sorry

I'm so sorryI'm so sorryvv

I'm so sorry
I'm so sorry
I'm so sorryI'm so sorryI'm so sorryv
I'm so sorryI'm so sorry
v
I'm so sorry

Keys
Ivory fingers
pale poised
passing promptly
across the keys
of the loneliest sounding instrument.
Cold little bones
pressing
precisely picked notes.
Eyes closed
as the music carries,
for I learned this song
when I was just a little girl,
a song of loneliness
of heart ache
I learned this tune
because I lost the will
to say
   I am unhappy
   I have been used
   I long for your love
   Tell me I'm not all that my mind thinks I am
   How long shall I play this song?
Ivory fingers
pressing poorly
pastored keys
the song ages with me
it becomes slower and slower
and lighter and lighter
as the will to press the keys
as the will to express anything at all
slowly fades away
with my surrounding's discouragements,
     *how much longer will I play this song?

I write so many poems
every single day
in such a flurry of emotion
I have to use all my strength
to restrain myself
from posting them all at once
posting them as I feel them
one after another
clogging up your homepage
so you feel as clogged up
as I do
in my heart.
but it's good I don't,
for even though those poems
were produced
in a moment's emotion..
that emotion never truly fades,
and carries on forever.

At it's finest,

love

is a double edged sword.

Tell me I'm pretty,
or I shall cut myself from head to toe.

They ask me why I'm sorry,
But how can I reply?
struggling to find the words
but choking and drowning instead.

Memories flash by
muddled with contempt
of his hands around my throat,
of a bloodied fist and bat.

It must have been my fault,
in fact I was told it was.
The bruises and burns
form stripes across my body
and it must have been my fault.

"You're a *****"
he'd say
"A worthless swarthy *****,
and you don't deserve to be here-
you deserve to die"

so prompt and adament in my mind
feeling my weak bones shiver and snap
as they recall a bloodied bat bruising my childhood's skin
again and again
and again
and again
and again
and again...

I'm sorry.
I'll never know what I did
to make them all hate me
to make him hate me
they say we are blood
but does blood have that much hate?
three other siblings-
they did nothing wrong
It was me
and always me
that had to apologize.

I don't know what I did,
so I'll say I'm sorry
I'll apologize for everything in sight
to make up for the little girl
who couldn't be sorry enough.

I think,

just once,

I'd like to feel important.

Amnesiac
Addict
Artist

how do you live
without coping?

I know only survival

I-
I-
am sick to my stomach
stiff like driftwood
thinking about you and her together
I-
I-
am sick to my stomach
knowing you are not honest

this is where they sang and danced
this is where they felt romance
this is where they learned to laugh
this is where they bounced with gaffe
this is where they learned
this is where they yearned,
this is where they were shown the world,
this is where they slowly twirled
this is where they sang rhymes of crime
this is where they saw the tragedies of time,
this is where they truly saw the world
this is where they quickly curled
this is where they loved
this is where they began to shove
this is where they had faith in fate
this is where they learned to hate
this is where the children play
this is where their bodies lay

With you,

I grow stale,

Without you,

I die.

my heart it beats fast
tries to move
tries to fly
far away
from what makes it heavy

I need an anchor
a lover
make it calm
make it easy

I need someone to keep it still
hold it down
lift the weight
that makes skittish

let it know
it doesn't have to beat so fast
to stay alive.

Hot showers are not long enough,
the drives seem never ending,
the lines on my face
tally the hardships,
everything I've known
is forgotten by those who hand me my coffee.
My fingers fumble
to press buttons
that remind me how complicated everything is now,
and how it all used to be.
I take walks through the streets
and am alone.
I keep my shoes tied
slacks straight
and shirt buttoned righteously.
I can only brush my greying hair back
and look at the world anew each day,
to see that the world still cogs on,
and then I know
that I am yesterdays man.

Skinny.
Moppy hair,
high, defined cheekbones
framing your pale face,
Those eyes, nearly black,
kind and soft with illness.

The disease lies strong within you,
bony metacarpels tracing my hip,
you feel it in me too.

At peace with our dragons,
frozen in war-
purple dye
tainting the test results,
prompting questions
of skinny love
run rampant.

Voice of an off-kilter Angel,
whispering sweet horrors
into mine that are nearly deaf.

Entrance me
in your dying symphony,
your frail sonnet
your crisp breath-
your last breath.

Set me on my way
into an unknown,
shrouded
in little miseries.

the sunset reminds me of
the way you
crane your neck
and take a deep breath
you say
the words are whispering
and how you've missed them for such a long time

I'll stay until they come....

I'll stay until they come...

How do you tell yourself
you're beautiful,
when you've never heard those words before?

hugging myself
only makes me feel colder
wish I could make it out of the storm
but I walk with a ball and chain
foot dragging along the ice
bloated
like a rotten fish
puffy face
from all the times I've fallen
and smacked my face against the hard ground
still I got up and kept walking
then crawling
then stretching my flabby hand out
reaching
and reaching
till only my eyes
could look forward.

movies
meals
activities

choice of dress
choice of words
choice of pets

events
laugh
decor

thoughts
feelings
actions
decisions
ide­as
revisions

there is no denying
in every aspect of my life
I am mild

He pressed a pillow against her face

to put her in her place.

His tongue snapped scars

while she looked at the stars

and broke bones

with a bat when he was out of stones.

large rough hands on a tiny neck

leaving her locked on the deck.

He commanded her to love him

or he'd break a limb.

she always lied

or never replied,

it was all too much a bother,

rather, it was all too much a father.

Constant chatter of the students
honking of the cars
sirens
barking dogs
wind chimes
and when you've turned the TV off
music is still there to accompany you.
But when you turned it off
only the electronic hum and buzz of appliances is there.
But what if those were off too.
What if all you had was the rustling of the trees?
and what if you didn't have that either?
Can you remember the sound of silence?
Or have you forgotten it's purpose,
forgotten how you used to be friends,
blind to its beauty.
What would you do if there was silence,
and the tapping of the keys and scratch of pencil
and the sound of breath disappeared?
What would you say to the world's forgotten friend,
if it came back around?

Existence has never been so theoretical.
my motions never more blurred,
my notions never more unmotivated,
touching so underwhelming,
seeing so-last-year,
solidity so unnecessary,
I'm liquid
I'm air
covered in dust from toe to hair,
nothing has ever been so nothing,
space never so empty,
these in and out breaths so trivial,
revolving door,
Existence has never seemed so theoretical.

skin rubbed raw by cheap sheets

yet another restless sleep

hindered not by freezing hands and feet

but by unknown trials of tomorrow

that may weaken my clutch,

that may finally be too much,

and relished by no more morrows-

lets me slip into the endless sorrow

how do you love yourself
love yourself
tell me how to free myself
                        see myself
ooh
       show me how to breath and become
       how to conquer and be done
       ways to stand and speak with the sun
       methods of coping with memories spun
       hacks to keep these fingers not guns
      
learn me a becoming like none

Am I doomed to feel loss?
In theory I do not mind
being confined to my own company
till death do me part,
but I am hindered by my heart,
by feelings.
I'd like to say I'm fine
with this solitude
but my wretched heart
beats out in anger
declaring it is lonely.
Why can't my heart agree with the rest of me?
So terribly inconsiderate
to make my life difficult
to make me feel sad for all the things I do not have
when in truth I do not care.
My heart is a monstrous thing
a creature I'd like to be left in a box
on the side of a road
perhaps on a rainy day
because clearly my heart enjoys
dramatic scenery such as that.
Truly the things that make me most miserable,
are the doings of my heart.

The coming day
offers so much fear
so much insecurity
I wish I could wear a mask
pull my hair in front of my face
wish no one would talk to me
above all
oh above all
don't look at me
I hate having people look at me
their eyes burning into me
searing my skin
don't look at my blotchy face
don't roll over my doughy fat
don't linger on my frizzy hair
don't you notice how big my thighs are
when I sit still
trying to be unnoticed
just don't look at me
the coming day
offers so much fear
too much fear
and I can't handle the terror
of being noticed
being looked at
it makes me sick
and shameful
and terrified
please
god
please
avert your eyes-
pretend I'm not there
it burns when you look at me
it sets me aflame
and I feel nothing
but the searing heat

**and it kills me

Seems far.
Really close.
chest tight,
hands shaking,
tears welling.

Just a few short months
and I'll go out into the world,
I'll have to leave behind
the only family I've ever had.

and I'm ******* terrified.

"I'm, dreaming...
        of a white....
         christmas...."

Did she stop singing,
because she didn't know the rest of the words?
because she disliked the sound of her voice?
or because the echo of her tune
was far too small
for a house that big?

Making something
from nothing,
is harder than it seems.

We all have our place in this world,
a talent unique to each,
a calling,
a purpose,
a reason to breath...
so maybe that's why my lungs hurt.
they struggle each intake
and nearly give up on the out.

Drums beat slow in the distance,
and so many walk to the beat-
but my uncoordinated feet stumble soddenly.
My fingers are long,
but fumble too quick to play music,
so I cannot create my own beat.

We all reside at the bottom of a pit,
black and coarse,
with the light of the world atop,
gathering at the edges, we start to climb,
but I'm too weak and cannot get very far.
I'm left behind by the others
strong enough to climb to the top,
and no matter how hard I work,
my arms remain weak,
so I sit at the bottom
watching the other weak
gain the strength to climb the walls.

The beautiful,
the bold,
the brave,
the blind,
the clever,
the artistic,
the talented,
the determined,
the kind,
the old,
all kinds of people
in all kinds of color
and sizes
find their own way,
yet mine remains imponderable.

I drag my feet to the sound of silence.
I push through the next breath.
my weak arms barely holding on.

I'm nothing
that simply can't become something.

I need to read more
and study the dictionary
and ask more questions
and read philosphy
and stop wasting time on Pinterest
pining for things I don't have the drive to work for
and think more-

so then maybe I can learn how to speak.

I feel so many things,
everything.
I feel each breath,
heartbeat,
conversations across the room
I feel the sun burning
and the moon glowing
and the ferocity of the wind
and each smile
and sigh-
I feel everything
and I feel it too much
to the point where it builds up
and becomes numb.
I am weighted
with all these feelings
and thoughts
and jokes
and fears-
but I don't have the words to express them.

In my fantasies,
the perfect man,
the perfect friend,
is one that doesn't badger me to speak more
and make idle conversation,
but one that knows what I feel just by looking at me,
one that breathes my silence
and understands that putting words to these emotions
is far too difficult a task-
but that's a silly fantasy,
everyone else talks
so why shouldn't I?

I write poetry in hopes
I'll find a proper,
eloquent way to
announce my feelings
but they just jut out like ugly spores
in the form of average teen angst
and I look at my work - even my best -
and think
"no no no, that's not right.
It's more complicated and painful and beautiful-
no no it's so much more than this"

it's silly of me
to think that in a world so loud
I can be silent and happy.
Not that I'm dying to be happy,
in fact I quite like the misery,
silence is the only thing I truly strive for.
In a way, for me, silence is a native language,
and speaking is foreign and hard to learn
and all the while I try my best to learn-
I want someone to also try to learn
the much underpreciated silence.
silence is an important language of it's own,
one often disregarded
but it's the only language I comfortably know.

It kills me how hard I try to speak,
but that's not the point,
I just wish someone else would take a chance
to understand the silence.

I'm doing great!
OH, JUST DANDY
fantastic!
fine
okay, you?
pretty good
well, and you?

maybe if I keep lying to people
when they ask me how I am,
maybe eventually my answer will be true.

been laying here for hours
rug burn on every inch of me
every inch of me
the itch can't make me forget
how it felt when you touched
                                                         ­ every inch of me
it's impossible to say
how much I hate
                            every inch of me
                            every inch of me
my every day-to-today
is consumed
with thoughts
of what if
                        every inch of me
                      every inch of me
were not really me

I didn't know I wanted you until I saw you in that tux,
holding her hand,
lord, she looked beautiful.
so **** beautiful it ruined my night.
She's tall with clean skin and luscious hair
and a smile that lights up the room ,
and she gets you-
thinks like you
she's clever and so ****** poised and stunning-
what must I look like compared to her?
what does the mud look like to the diamond?

The way you scoot closer
and touch me
and laugh with me
and hug me
and make every excuse to have me leave class with you
even though you could do what you've always done
and ditch by yourself
and opening up to me
and I wanted you to be my friend
but I didn't know until today
I wanted it to be more.

It's unfair of me to feel sad
at seeing you with her
or angry at her because she's so perfect-
it's unfair of me to be jealous
or to feel longing
because I know I couldn't be with someone like you
I know I wouldn't do it-
not with those drugs in your system,
but oh, tall skinny boy who's not even my style,
I didn't know I wanted you like that.
I didn't know I wanted you.
I didn't know.

celebrating easter all alone
you'd think I'd be used to it,
being on my own.
The pain never goes away,
I think it's here to stay,
I think I better go and run,
'cause stayin here aint' fun.

I feel the wind is movin...
I better go with the flow
leave my boxes in the rain
let em' grow some mold,
think I'll leave it all behind,
even my name.

I want to hang out with you
but I don't drink or smoke
I want to laugh with you
but I'm not as funny
I want you to like me
but you're way skinnier than me
more attractive too
and oh god that hair;
funny ***** and lovely
to match your personality.
I overhear you say
no one gets the anger that fills you up
that makes you smoke
but I guess you'll never know
that same anger
has eaten my soul,
I want to know more about you
but I'm sure you eyes glaze over me,
you don't even know I'm here.

I sat on the bus
and drew a frown
on the foggy window
and realized I had little
to no idea who I really am.

I don't know why
I don't want to admit
I need somebody
to hold me
and love me
and tell me I'm beautiful.

Will you hold me
and sing to me
run your fingers
over my shoulders
and through my hair
will you snuggle into me
breathing softly
telling me about your dreams
will you hold me
while I drift
deeper and deeper
into eternity?

what's it like to raise your voice

to stand atop a mountain and scream

to clench your fists tight

I wanna know

I wanna know

It's interesting to see how it goes
when somebody dies and nobody knows.
It's a cruel cruel world
when the rain flattens hair that's been curled
and her makeup is running
and she looks so stunning
but it would be crueler not to mention his tears
muscles cover up his fears
be a man
they preach
be a man
take a stand
don't be a leach
be the biggest
be the best
and not anything less
for they stress and they stress
otherwise he, is, nothing.

It's a cruel cruel world
when we brand our
children
with something worse
than labels-
expectations-
like horses in stables
bred for perfection
bred for success
bred to be a show pony
with no free will
glitter and smiles
nothing but phony,

It is branded in their skin
it's burned quite deep
like all of their kin
a scar to keep.
Hold it in,
careful,
breath with the beat,
walk in the middle of the street,
you are not your own
your heart is made of stone,
for otherwise you are nothing,
and will not be noticed upon passing.

There are no descriptions,
    no artist names,
         only pretty pictures
   to keep us entertained

here we are in the dark
did they
ever tell you
how hard this would be
how hard you'd have to work
we
here
here we are
you're learning now
                learning to
break through the lies they told you
it's hard to understand
you're running around
with your hands above your head
surrender surrender
they like it that way
kick your heels up high
you'll never stop learning
they never told you
about all you could be
how hard it would be
there's so much more
to everything
and you're just figuring it out
they could have taught you early
but they didn't
by the time you're ready
your skin is sagging
your mind is running in circles
with hands above head
see what they've done
see what the dark has
it's all beginning
you're just now learning
not prepared
and you'll make their same mistake
repetition  
repetition
hands above head
jogging to the beat
trying so hard
but your skin is sagging
and you know
it's too late
to reach your potential.

I want to feel
your traveled hands
lift my head
as you bend to kiss
and devour
my adulation