there are people like you there.
the ones who yell "what the hell"
when there band plays on the
radio because they don't want to
share it with the world.

the ones who don't talk during
class because they simply just
want to be out free not making
up some stupid drama.

the ones who wear what they
want not giving a **** about
how people will look at them in
the hall.

the ones who are the outsiders.
the ones who are
just like you.
h.d.

she always walked
as if she had a better place to be
like she beloned in a better world.
h.d.

I couldn't write for days
Because the words got
Stuck in my throat and
They sounded sour when
They came out on paper.

I sat forcing my self to
Write a well written poem
But my mind kept spinning
And the clock kept ticking
Making me go quite insane.

I just couldn't seem to put
My thoughts together and form
A decent poem that made sense
not some self pity love letter to
the one who won't love back.

You told me to just stop thinking
So much and write for my self
And not for others and I cried
As I sat there with paper and pen
Confused at why I could write.
h.d.

i used to go downstairs
to find my dad watching
football and i would pretend
to understand what was
happening as i told him
about my day, and he
would say he loved me.

now six years later it's
football season and i
haven't gone downstairs
in a months.
i wish i knew why.
h.d.