Ive waited and waited for you,
yet you still dont seem to care.
so this is me,
not giving up,
but not giving a **** anymore.

most people hate mornings
but i've grown to love them
something about the cool air
seems peiceful to me

its my alone time
time to write down my thoughs,
and burry myself in a book
something about them
seems peiceful to me

I never wanted to be described as pretty. People have told me upon meeting how pretty I was, and I despised it. I didn't want to be pretty. I did not want to be crushed and molded into that empty term; pretty.
I wanted to move mountains and dance on the stars. I wanted to spray paint on the moon. I wanted intelligence and courage, and wit and charisma. I was a novel, not a page.

then one day I finally realized that I could be both. we all could.
and that's how I live now.
we are all pretty. we all are made of stardust and memories and courage and charisma.
we are.

around you,
you make me nervous
i can't breath when your around
i can't make eye contact,
and thinking of you gives me the chills
i get butterflies in my stomach,
and i can't stand still
every time we talk
i don't act like myself
around you

i spend my nights
in my room,
left alone,
always in deep though.
wondering when
if,
i'll ever be good enough for you?

poetry is great cause you can read it a million times and never know the real reason why someone wrote it. Its a mystery and that's why u like it.