Ballerina Barbie
Twisted, bending back
Awkward posing
Woman-doll
You painted her in black
She used to float
A sun-stream ray
Stars lit up her eyes
You took advantage
Of her light
With prying nicks and barbs
Cuts and slaps
Tore at her heart
You slowly wore away
The shining brightness that she was
Bound her like a slave
Until she woke
One foggy night
Shaking like a leaf
Vulnerable, but strong inside
She knew she had to leave
She ran straight through the wispy fog
and turned the golden key
She turned and pushed and turned and pushed
The car would go nowhere
She looked into her rear view mirror
And saw you standing there
The metal cap held in your hands
A smirk upon your face
"You twisted, broken Barbie doll
Will never leave this place."

Dear Poem,

    We talk everyday, you know me by many names. But we are beyond names. You know me as a person. You understand me and when I am in need of guidance you are  quick to point out my flaws and lead me back to the straight and narrow. You never let me forget. Sometimes I may have turned a blind eye to you for this simple fact but in the end I realize the importance of remembering.

     You are intelligent, you grow with me. But always a few steps ahead. You drive me farther with every dialogue that's shared between us. As if to coach me along in life and say, "life is not a box of chocolates but the bond that the box of chocolates represents" you say things that bring revelations that change my life. I love hurt feel pain and happiness everyday and you are there to take in all the pressures I have built up.

     I have no doubt that the pen in my hand and the paper beneath my palm is only the effect, caused by our interaction. It's this interaction that I am eternally grateful for. And for as long as you are there for me, I will be there for you. And you will not fade away.

      With love,
      Me.

I wish
I had freckles
on my shoulders that would
t
r
ick
le
down to my blades
and show that
I have tasted the sun
And I wish that my sc
ars
would show
and
not (hide neath my skin and in
my heart’s shadows)
to let you know
that I have
seen
my share
of hurt
and
Overcome.

Being**

Be brave, quietly so.
Be true, like the North Star.
Be kind, as spring rain awakens the flowers.
Be thoughtful, to let the world out and let yourself in.
Be yourself—no matter the impediments.

Be…breath the now.
Just be.

walking down the street,
we passed by car plates that say 'the right place to be'. i hum to a tune, maybe Kids,
because that was our song then
and you would hum to
it would turn into a chorus and

we continued walking because we had
somewhere to go and because the
distance between us (now a whole different universe)
changes not the right place to be, you

Out of class; out of state; out of mind. Carelessness implied; wrong questions with answers to find.

And perception viewed and seen as shame. But, coming from the shadows, I say I'm not to blame. Only if strangers knew the real side of things. As anxiety expands and spreads its wings.

So my disposition would be clear. And people would know I believe in fear. It is represented through a single tear. People aren't prophets, they're not seers.

And that might be the reason I hold composure. Knowing there aren't cameras; no exposure. No bright lights as the clouds part. A notion that stings and steals my heart.

With all that said I wonder why I feel lost. When my mood dictates weather, and the earth sees frost. So yes, I act cold. Some see bold.

But that is the farthest from the truth. I'm just the image of confused youth. The mental equivalent of mental abuse. Yes...confused.

It brings my mind to a bind. As I state: Out of class; out of state; out of mind.