Words do not echo.
Words do not cry.
Words do not,
Identify.

Scrambled and stirred,
Frozen and baked.
Pulled when needed,
Eaten to be fed.

Pieced together,
Black or white,
Laugh or fight,
Wrong or right.

A sound is bound by key,
A picture by color pigments,
Emotions chemically,
But words contain,
Everything,
And absolutely,
Nothing.

The same word
Can be
Completely
Different,
Depending who, what, how
When it was read
Or written.

What if every word,
Was positive in meaning?
Harmless,
Could not
Destroy feelings.

Words have no senses.
Words have no bounds.
No touch, sight, taste, or smell.
Words have no sound.

Words have no sound.
Unless read aloud.

I turned seventeen today.
It's nothing special.
But I turned seventeen today,
And that's something.

There's a difference between
Seventeen and 17.
They have the same value,
But have a different meaning.

Seventeen is
Your teen years
Coming to an end
But just starting all the same

Seventeen is
Your last year as a child;
The ability to be free
With little responsibility

Seventeen is
Maturity
Adolescents
Personality

But 17 is
Just a number.
It has no real significance.
It's not special.

17 is
Just an age
That's not as important
As 18 and 21.

17 is
Small
Irrelevant
Numerical.

But I turned seventeen today
I turned 17 today
Mature.
Irrelevant.

At seventeen,
The hardest choice you should have
To make is what clothes you want
To wear,
Or what food you want
To eat;
Not sitting at the edge of your bed
At four in the morning
Considering whether or not
Your existence matters in this world
- (A.)

Sitting alone, I start to think
What could this life really be?
Rainbows
And
Butterflies
Every little girls dream….
Snowflakes
And
Angels
Is that what it means?
But that’s not what I see,
Could it just be me?
Rainstorms
And
Bumblebees
Years of dreams not meant to be…
Blizzards
And
Nightmares
What could this mean?
Have I simply grown up?
Or is it bigger than that?
It’s not fair,
It’s not right.
Im still too young to fight this fight
16 years
To live
To survive,
Still just a baby in most people’s eyes
Caught in these ropes
Of lies
And fear
Can anyone around me even hear?
16 years
To fail
To mess up
Results in 16 years way too much.

i. you will forget the way his voice sounds and it will be okay
ii. your mum is your best friend, regardless of who else is there for you at the time.
iii. do not get drunk and call him and tell him you miss him, because he won’t come back.
iv. **** your pride. if you’re wrong, admit it, if you ****** up, apologise. your pride isn’t worth losing someone.
v. school is important, **** it up and make time for studying.
vi. chase after your dreams.
vii. just because he stopped loving you doesn’t mean you should stop loving yourself.
viii. your teachers are on your side. respect them.

Is no longer alive.
People left there home to come to this here promise land.
And We've disappointing them time and time again.
We promise them money and riches for miles.
But all we give them is evil sinkers and fake cheerful smiles.
But here were free
Were not the only ones free
But we have freedom of speech
France has strikes and police don't abuse them when they do
But...we have..Equal rights
Wow the hell we do nothings equal
But..we are beautiful
We are not a beautiful country, we never were.
People have all these good things to say about america but there's nothing good about us.
Yes were getting better.
There's no more slaves.
Women have more rights.
Children can get a good education.
But We have not yet reached where we could be.
It will be years, centuries before the "American Dream"
Becomes actuality.

They say we live the AMERICAN DREAM...

500 thousand homeless....
48.1 million go hungry....
16,238 murders per year....
1.1 million foreclosures....
8 million jobless....
Where racism still exist...
Lack of real Government...
A very weak economy.....
A weak education system...
Where poverty still exist...

If this is the AMERICAN DREAM,
somebody needs to wake me the **** up....

Great Expectations


The moment after you were born
(which apparently was a great miracle)
they slapped your ***
took your footprints
wrote your name on an official certificate
wrapped you up and sent you home.
The doctors said you were healthy:
your parents said you were better than that.

And from then on you were to be exactly that.
Excellent in every way.
Tall.
Charming.
Wide-eyed.
Witty.
Strong.
Unbreakable.
A statue will be made of you.

Affectionately inscribed to
shine in the sun,
you've no need to know the darkness:
only the weak waste their breath
reveling in the moon,
howling the night away.

Great care was put into raising you.
You are not to take it for granted.
Do you not know how high
your parents had to fling you
for you to hit that pedestal so monolithic?

Expecting you to fly
without asking if you feared heights
or sought the soft grass instead.

Expecting you to eclipse the Sun
oh, so long you stared into it
asking how to fly so high
sun in your eyes
darkness burning in.

Expecting you to See the World
in all it's brilliant beauty
with those eclipses in your skull
with the abyss open eyes.

Given a pen to write great words
but I guess they never noticed
it had no ink.

Big bulging eyes expected to see everything.
Eyes taught to see the flaws in everything
eyes with nothing better to look at
but televisions and mirrors.

The bathroom mirror where you first realized
that you weren't good enough.
Hours spent staring at some ugly stranger
too proud for friends
too quiet for fame
too tired for talent.

A living collaboration of flaws
held together by bits of pasty skin
broken bones
and dark eye circles
by all the times you were called a failure
or all the times they said "you did your best"
but you called yourself a failure anyways.

Eyes like mirrors seeing eyes and windows
and eyes and glass barriers.
All those eyes swirling around you
seeing what they want to see,
you can only hope they don't see too much.
At least you've grown cynical enough
to know they're not looking for much to begin with
but even still your stomach grows weary.

Here you soar at the prime of your youth
surrounded by mirrors
eyes full of fluorescent lighting.
sleepy and stumbling.
Confused as to how anyone could
think of you as special and grand.
Confused at how everyone else is so much better
at simply living their lives.
Like they really didn't know that Life was
the hardest thing there ever is.

Words fallen upon distracted ears.

Eyes that are full of Life
but only the brighter half of it.
Eyes as windows staring at screens
texting all the silence away.
Eyes that are lost in Life
loving and living
taking every step forward
without feeling the weight to ask why.

Oh, and here you are,
sitting, perched on a street bench
watching the passer-bys go about their day.

Looking at those strange eyes
trying to see what they see.
Trying to see how anyone could fail to notice
that sad statue staring there.

All those times you watched
the ones you loved
stand in inconsolable silence
but if only you knew what to say...

...
Nights quiet

the sheen of the abyss reflecting their
sorrows back at them.

You found shelter in the darkest corner of existence
still expected to converse happily
still expected to live with a smile
still expected to hide your unfortunate understanding
of the way things really work
the lead role in the tragiccomedy of your own life
set on the absurd stage of our own gravity.

The gravity that is every day of your life
the aching in your bones as the alarm goes off
the stagger in your step as you stumble forward
the tears at night as you have to do it all over again.
The only thing temporary are those
crashing moments of happiness
that shine bright
but disappear with the thunder.

You're expected for great love
but you never expected the way your heart pounds
and your stomach turns
when you fight back the tears
standing naked there with your darkness hanging out.
Staring into a devastated face
seeing in perfect form a heart you've shattered.

It's like they don't know just how burdensome
these great expectations are.

But perhaps -- most importantly --
they don't understand
the beauty of a sunrise after a sleepless, crying night
or the gratitude felt from finding a legitimate hand to hold.

You are expected for great things,
but then again,
everyone thinks they are.
But you,
but me,
but all the rest of the people like us.
Let us leave this place
with the preoccupations and the pedestals.

Our bodies torn and torn again
worn down and weary but somehow
still stepping
strengthened by the expectations
we exchanged
for a peaceful sunset
and a good night's sleep.

For that little light
that we forgot shone
in these tired, confused, marvelous eyes.