The sky was lit with fireworks,
subtly laying the groundwork.
Our wandering eyes met,
and I swear I heard a string-quartet.
The childish blush that overcame my cheeks,
seemed to appear in hot, red streaks.
You walked nearer and my eyes twinkled with anticipation,
thinking you were to make some grand declaration,
of our feelings that needed exploring,
see, it felt like my heart was soaring.
I didn’t realize that in the drink you were pouring,
was what would ruin everything for me.
My voice was lost so quickly you see,
because you seemed to know little ol’ me.
It wasn’t until it set in,
the walls seemed to move from where they had been.
My mind was clouded in the darkness,
and now I’m thinking, "how could you be so heartless?"
But not like the song,
no, nothing about us was like music, easy and flowing.
You took from me, what wasn’t yours to take,
I’d been a blank slate,
but by then your wandering eyes,
had looked like they’d won a prize.
We didn’t fit together like puzzle pieces,
I still remember how my dress had creases.
The next morning was worse,
it was then I watched my trust in men ride off in a hearse.
The pools of blue that once intrigued me,
resurrect within what seems to be a raging sea
of emotions, that I cannot suppress
and it’s you that got me into this mess.
I’d been in love with you since I was sixteen,
something that now seems so obscene.
So at eighteen, I thought you’d finally seen me,
but now you’ve seen more of me than need be.
That bet you made with your friends,
left me with a darkness that descends,
especially when I sleep,
leaving me to feel like a black sheep.
But, as time has passed,
within me there’s been a huge contrast.
I will not be a ‘victim’ anymore,
and someday I’ll feel my heart soar.
I’ll experience another fleeting glance,
and one day, I’ll give love a second chance.

When gentle breezes turn into gale,
     remember that you will prevail.

       You may tear at these pages daily,
in search of peace and tranquillity.
   Planting hope and scattering wishes,
    Spilling blood in smears and blemishes...
       Flying out of the dark on
     wings of birds.
       Bridging the rippling void through
           severed words.

                Seeking...
             Reaching...
               Imploring...
            Writing...

     Be not wary of eyes that speak.
  Be not afraid of mouths that leak.

Know that our scribbles are only
   sacred to us.
       Emotions and thoughts we
           bind and truss.

  What we put forth, we owe it to ourselves...
     Bits of us we've kept hidden in the
darkest rooms; atop the highest shelves.

You...
      are wielder of your mighty pen.
You...
      determine how far or long your
         words would span.

   Your words... They're precious gold.
Many or little; be them new or old.

So let drip your ink with little reservation...
  Let us grow from strength to strength
     as life teaches its lessons.

   Rise up and live on in these here pages,
     For here exist only
         freedom;
               not cages.

I can cling to a golden thread of desperation if you put it within my reach
I can wrap it around my fingers and toes
I hope to cut off circulation until every breath of mine is a beautiful violet
I can twirl on the tips of my toes until the world around me turns faster and I am standing still
I'm not in wonderland
My teeth are made of glass but no matter how hard I clench my jaw, they refuse to break
My eyes are growing blades of grass within them but my ******* lawn mower won't start
Why do I always expect to be cared about?
Why are you always the martyr?
Why is it my job to take care of you when I still have to learn how to take care of myself?
Why can't you let branches grow from yourself and be your own **** person?
You follow in my footsteps like you are afraid of making your own imprint on this earth
Dig your feet into the ground and stomp
Create earthquakes with the impact
Shake down every brick building that was built up to block the sun from reaching your eyes
I was not put on this earth to be your protector
Your protector is within the thread of the leash you tied around my neck
I'm choking on air and you pluck it out of my mouth and swallow it whole and still complain of not being able to breath
Stop walking behind me and start running beside me
Gold is only found where you look and so far, you pretend to be blind
Stick legs don't bend but they break pretty **** easily
The flowers sprouting out of my ears are wilting
Recycled ideas should not fill your head
Your own ideas should
The thread tied around my wrists is yellow and black
I can't find the strength to snap it
I'll spend my empty days unraveling it, only getting it tangled up again

Waking up to hazy mornings.
To the bitter cold days of
Early Spring.

I've never seen such a beautiful sunrise.

Nine o' clock cigarettes during
The morning rush.
Saturday morning cigarettes
That muddle my head.
The chilly air mimics the smoke
Spewing from my lips,
Toxins sticking to my lungs
Like glue.

It's another day in Paradise.

The dishes in the sink
Pile up in mountains.
Like the skyscraper laundry stack
Overflowing in the hamper.

Just another day in Paradise.

The street lamps glisten as strings of pearls
Their light reflecting off the silver glare of traffic barrels.

The flowers have not arrived.
The flowers have not bloomed,
And the anxiety is killing me.
Killing me like the coffee craving
Pounding in my head.
The flowers are missing,
Hiding from the stinging cold
Of early Spring.

I've never seen such beautifully dismal skies.

In the mild conversations about the weather,
I tell them that it's never been better.
In a way, it's never been.

I walk down the battleground of sidewalk
And tree roots, the slabs of concrete
cracked and marred by Mother Nature's
Will.
Broken etchings of hopscotch
Blur on the gritty surface, besides
The rose bush peeking out through the
Fence.

They'll never fix these.

Because it's another day in Paradise.

june tenth
the pale lamp in my room is flickering again,
you told me fifty three times to fix it,
i never did.

september twenty-first
every morning i drink apple juice,
you liked orange juice and always asked me to buy some,
i never did.

september twenty-fifth
wednesday: the day you were born,
once you were gone i was supposed to forget,
i never did.

october third
halloween is coming up,
you told me to dress up as captain america,
i never did.

may second
it's spring time and the flowers are hopping up from their beds, (another thing i never did)
i can't believe the world still goes on but,
i never did.

may eighteenth
i read the fifth harry potter book,
i skipped two and four; you once told me to write my own story,
i never did.

may twenty-seventh
you always laid out my meds for me on our lillypad green paper napkins,
but whenever i'd take them you'd vanish, so,
i never did.

june first
i played a mel tormé record,
you said i had a better voice than him whenever i sang along but,
i never did.

june sixth
i cried for the first time in three days,
the world felt heavier today, i tried to let it crush me but,
it never did.

june tenth
now its been,
well,
time seems a bit funny to me now a days.
but i guess its probably been two months or so,
but the calendar says four years,
but the calendar wouldn't be the first thing to lie to me in here.
but i want to let you know:

i don't have lamps now,
i only am allowed water,
they never tell me what day it is,
i haven't even seen a halloween since your absence,
the only thing close to flowers in here is the pattern on my gown,
the "library" here *****, there is a total of nine books. they are all gross romance novels,
my meds now come in a tiny paper cup four times a day,
they only play country here and thats only on music therapy days,
the world floated up
                                    up
                         ­                 up
                                             ­   and away, i assume it took you with it,

i guess it is just and fair that this happened to me,
i mean look at all the things you asked that i did not do for you,
but i asked you one thing,
and you said you'd always be with me, but,
you never did
**no one ever did

There are women against feminism
And I really don't get that
Feminism is about equal rights for men and women
And without that
I would spend my life suffering through the remark
"Get back to the kitchen"
Because it wouldn't be my place to deny that
And little girls would grow up
With their purpose in life to be
To look pretty
And have children
Without feminists
I would grow up and never get the chance to vote
Without feminism
It wouldn't matter if I had an education
As long as I looked good enough to get a husband
Isn't there something wrong with that
And feminism is around today
Because some men still look at women as objects
Because women can't dress nice
Without a male seeing it as an invitation
Because women who have *** are *****
But guys who have *** are praised
Because women get paid less than men
Feminism still exists because so does inequality
And men don't think I'm blaming you
I'm blaming the society
That uses a woman's body to sell anything from burgers
To perfumes
I'm blaming the society
That constantly photoshops women
I'm blaming the society
That blames the victim
I'm blaming the society  
That makes women believe feminism is wrong

"THIS PICTURE WILL NOT CHANGE THE WORLD, BUT I STILL NEED FEMINISM AND I’M GOING TO REALLY, REALLY TELL YOU WHY":

-Because I got called a ***** for wearing a short plaid skirt when I was 10

-and because when Nujood Ali from Yemen was 10 she got divorced

-Because black girls’ names became my classmates’ favorite “joke” when I was 11

-and because when an 11-year-old girl in Texas was ***** by 18 men the New York Times wrote of how the girl “dressed older than her age”

-Because I started counting calories when I was 14

-and because when Malala Yousafzai was 14 she was shot in the head for trying to go to school

-Because I heard a boy greet a girl with “hey ****” today at age 16
-and because when a 16-year-old girl in Steubenville, Ohio was filmed being ***** by two boys at a party while unconscious the CNN reporters talked about how tragic it was because the rapists had such bright futures as athletes

-Because I will have to watch my drink at all bars and parties when I am 22

-and because when CeCe McDonald was 22 she was sentenced to 41 months in prison for defending herself against a man who screamed transphobic, racist insults at her and then slashed her face with a bottle

-Because no matter what age I am the biggest threat to men will still be heart disease, and the biggest threat to women will still be men.

-Because it is not just about me, because it is not just about anger, because it is not just a JOKE, because it is not just about “hating men,” because it is not just about girls with vaginas, because it is not just about ending “****”, because it is not just about white straight girls in Rookie magazine, because it is not just about writing on backs, because it is not just about the fact that gay men are “****” but lesbians are “hot,” because it is not just about pictures of thin white girls being the only google image results for the search phrase “beautiful women”, because it is not just about writing signs, because it is not just about what she was wearing or how many times she said yes before she changed her answer to no, because misogyny is not just about one thing and feminism is not just about one thing and it is not just “a trend” and it will not “happen” in just one way.

-And because yes. It is about equality for EVERYONE, but first and foremost it needs to be about equality for girls, because they are not treated equally to men, in every single sense, and you are not going to take feminism away from me and call me bossy/hostile/aggressive and make this about yourself or make it into a joke, because truth be told, I’m not joking and I’m tired of explaining. If you want to call yourself a feminist, you work hard to spread feminism, you do not turn this into a contest of whose struggle is greater and constantly demand to know what you can get out of feminism personally. Feminism is not just about you, or me, it is about everyone. If you’re male and you’re tired of men being stereotyped as hyper-masculine, soulless, sexist, inherent leader-tyrant creatures, then go out and prove the patriarchy wrong and fight for girls, like someone with a soul who believes in equality would. Then, yes, feminism will be about everyone.


- http://crystallized-teardrops.tumblr.com/post/81364478634/wearethefourthwave-this-picture-will-not -