when will i stop making mistakes
the ones that ache
the ones that break
the hearts of others
that heart of yours
that scars
when you think of the hate
that you have for this world
and for fate
which a given you a hand of cards
that is the reason for most of your mistakes
when you meet someone
and decide not to fake it
but then they see your mistakes
and decide to make
them larger than life
because your life is so small
so very small and it hurts to realize
that you don't mean as much
to the person you love
to the person you trust
as you thought
as you ought
to mean
your sadness makes
you make mistakes
that ache
that break
the hearts of others
your heart that hates
and makes mistakes

Dear Friend…
I don’t know where to start.
Memories come to mind
Of how you stole my heart.

You didn’t ask.
No question or please.
Just sauntered in and took it,
Apparently with ease.

I’ve tried to get it back so hard,
Fought you countless times,
And yet my heart is tied to yours
A foreign feeling, but sublime.

I don’t know why it had to be this way
To always feel alone,
Because my background and my habits
I’ve stayed secluded as I’ve grown.

Of all the lies I’ve told myself,
This is surely one,
I swore I’d never have a friend,
But now look what you’ve done.

Your soft smiles make me smile too
Never ceasing to have beauty.
And the way you protect me from my fears
As if it is your duty.

And when you are filled to the brim
With tears that spill and shine,
Even when days are looking grim,
Know that you’ll be fine.

Lucy to my Ethel,
Mountain to my dew,
So my dear partner in crime,
Know I’ll never leave you.

Never forsaken never forgotten
Never will your days be rotten,
For if I love you and  you love me,
We’ll fill up our lives with memories.

The good and bad,
The pleasure the pain,
Through brightest sun
And darkest rain,

My friend,
I’ll be there for you.
So please say that
You’ll never leave me, too.

Things people say,
Things people do,

Why do they do them?

Things that I say,
Things that I do,

Why do I do them?

Everyone has a theory,
A thought, a notion,

But I have none.

Everyone has a will,
the desire to be free,

But where is their soul?

A reason to do,
A reason to say,

An explanation,
A truly free nation,

At what cost do these things come?

It’s not truly about the cost,
Or is it?

No.
It’s about if you’re willing to pay it.

“My love, come with me,” she whispered.
“Would you abandon this life with me?
To Explore the world courageously?
Or will you stay here.
Here,  where the rest of those who judge us,
The ones that call us different, stay.”

“My dear, But that would be cowardice,” he returned.
“Would you live here in this place with me?
To fight against discrimination and ridicule?
Or will you go?
Running from your problems like the wind,
As you always have before.”

Everything is perspective, we are told,
From your attitude to your observations.
If your glass is half empty or half full,
It still has something in there for you.

What you do with it is your choice.

Every day, I wake up.
Everyday, I must prepare myself for what  lies ahead.

The first step into the chill morning air always bites,
But not a much as the stares of my classmates.
The pain of my sprained ankle screams,
But not as much as the voices in my head.
The blast of my music hurts my ears,
But not as much as the whispers do.
The exhaustion makes me want to cry,
But not nearly as much as the stress.

Everyday I enter,
Everyday I leave.

Friends joke about the pressure I have on me,
But they have no idea.
People question why I always have my notebook,
But they don’t try to understand.
Teachers are upset when I miss assignments,
But they don’t know what’s truly missing.
My instructors tell me to sing my heart out,
But it seems I no longer have a voice.

Everyday for eight hours I face my greatest fears.
Everyday for twenty-four, people don’t know I have them.

All I’ve ever really wanted was a hand to hold.
There were times where I was reaching,
But everyone was too busy, too tired, too old.
Finally a lone hand sunk down into my sea
And I clutched it so tight
That I almost dragged it down with me.

In fear and panic
I let it go,
So I wouldn’t wreck its chances.
So here I still wait, regretting my choices
And making hopeful glances.
I'm searching for a hand,
But slowly my arm is weakening.
This is not what I had planned.

And that sad part is I know
If I again found a hand to hold,
I be too exhausted to hang on.