There is true art in words
Past the arguments & debates between worlds.
More meaningful than the daily gossip, wide spread news between groups of girls.
Deeper than the pictures painted, for those who can not see.
Communication without words, resulting in generations acting primitively
More commonly misunderstood, no guidelines to follow
Not even a bible to read, the fruit for uplifting our souls spiritually  
No narratives to relate to, or even songs to sing  
The expression of one's character, minimized as far as only sight can see.    
Even those who can not hear, use words to speak.                  Swift movement of their hands, body language and gestures
All used to forms words ya see.
Men say women use them to much, women say men don't use them enough
Both parties using them the same, most with intentions of relaying true love
No hobby or passion untouched by its beauty
There is true art words, without them... where would we be? ...

Her presence possessed  a quiet elegance
Her mind a fire of disastrous wreckage
She bloomed from the internal chaos that possessed her
A simple manifestation of the dichotomy of chaos and order
She was beautiful to watch
Like a plane crash into a house of cards
I would die in that fire.

1203

The Past is such a curious Creature
To look her in the Face
A Transport may receipt us
Or a Disgrace—

Unarmed if any meet her
I charge him fly
Her faded Ammunition
Might yet reply.

Drowning in the world of lies
Truth hurts they say
Sweet are the lies told...
Pretending to be safe and sound
Hiding, disguising in the world of hypocrisy
When truth always hurt..
Lies can be sweet...
When is a lie ever so sweet?

By Rina

there was a boy, with a name like a superhero
and hair like the ocean
i think he knew he was special,
from the way he dressed to how he didn't give half a ****,
he knew he wasn't like the rest of us
he's out of this world,
alienated, quick, loud
he was floating on clouds
and he never came down.
don't ask me if i loved him,
because i didn't.
don't ask me if i thought he was perfect,
because you know i did.
and his eyes are deep as the sea,
begging me to come out to shore, come out to play
in the depths of the waters
and i stared into his eyes in the middle of the crowds
and watched the tears appear in his eyes
and disappear just as quickly, because he can cry on demand.
his brother is gay and his father is on the board
and his hugs make me feel warm.
i know this boy
and he colors outside of the lines
and he breaks the crayon in half,
and finds another way to express himself.