Stop treating me like I'm two
Because guess what
I'm not

Stop treating me like I'm thirty
Because guess what
I'm not

Stop treating me like I'm ignorant
Because guess what
I'm not

Stop treating me like I'm you
Because guess what
I'm not

Stop treating me like that
And start treating me
Like I'm

*Fifteen,
Not two, not thirty,

I know what you're talking about,
So please,
Cut me some slack.

I'm me.
Get over it all ready.

Ink Stains



Ink is bleeding through

soft drops of poison all black and blue,

little truths and promises scrawled across the surface

my heart drawn freely onto a blank canvas.

I gave you the pen but it bled through,

staining the perfect white with crimson hue

a savior in need,

for my heart indeed

I guess this is what you came to do.

One cannot erase a permanent mark,

but simply shade over to make it dark

Like a scar or wound that can not be replaced,

by a simple touch or look on your face,

but I need you to heal me,

I need to feel the warmth you extend so freely,

I need the sweetness of your breath to fan across my face,

a kiss of your lips not a moment to waste.

Because your love is the key to make us last

regardless of our horrid and troubled past.

so put down the pen you hold so dearly

and just come closer, please come near me,

because I promise I'll be forever yours for the rest of eternity.

This world is split.
There are people who believe in equality,
But they seem to be the minority.
There are people who believe their way is right,
Their traditional views are causing fights,
There are some people who don't care,
Others are unaware,
Despite the millions desperate for,
If nothing else, acknowledgement or,
Maybe one day something more.

But first, an end to the fear,
The irrational belief that when things appear,
Tough, it's the fault of those you don't agree with,
The ones who, maybe, just want to be with,
The person they love without taking,
The blame for everything making,
This ******* Earth weep,
When floods or disasters sweep,
Guess whose fault it is?
The he who fell in love with his smile,
Or the she who wants to carry her child.

Perhaps one day no one will protest,
Because he decided to wear a dress,
Or she chose to confess,
That despite her body she is a woman,
In a world where gender is defined by day one,
It seems unthinkable that his body is wrong,
But why does it matter to anyone else?
Just let her be a girl and keep your judgement to yourself.
Better still stop judging at all,
Because we're all human, it's not your call.

Attitudes are changing,
And talking to the next generation is uplifting,
Because there's a co-operative feeling,
Of acceptance.

It's just a matter of convincing everyone else.