Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Oct 2014 Jordan Frances
dnc mg
It's hard to accept that the person who mocks you,
is the same person you used to cheer.
 Oct 2014 Jordan Frances
cameran
happy people
become unhappy
when they begin
to question why
they were happy
in the first place
Let these words
Slip of my tongue
And hang in the air
Like smoke
Let them
Become something you crave
More than the nicotine
That poisons your body
Make them your addictions
That thing you need at two in the morning
The thing you can't stop thinking about
Let these words off my tongue
Hanging in the air
Breath them in
Let them take over your body
Get your high
Off my words
Let my tongue be your addiction
As I open the door

The cold engulfs me first
raising hairs on my neck, shivers down my spine, prickles on my scalp

Next the smell
so mild, pleasant, crisp. similar to rain or dew
my lungs take in this air for the first time

The light begins to peek over the mountains
clearing the fog, cutting away the dark

The quiet is both a comfort and an uneasiness
Only the earth under my feet whispers as I walk the dirt path

The lake unblemished, like a mirror for the sky to look upon
no wind, no waves, no life

standing there, absorbing the surroundings
I am the one to break the silence, to shatter the utopia
as I drop the pebble in the waters…

these ripples go on                                                              *­Forever
 Oct 2014 Jordan Frances
Zella
Perhaps the fact
that I chased a boy
who ripped me to shreds
says a lot more
about me
than it did him.
(this is an old poem i felt like sharing)
Was it because,

   I wore black?
   I wore make up?
   I colored my hair blue?
   I listened to different music?
   I didn't play sports?
   I had few friends?
   I didn't say Hi to you?
   I didn't wave to you?
   I didn't go to prom?
   I didn't fit in with the norm?
   I was fat?
   I was skinny?
   I was gay?
   I was black?
   I was Asian?
   I was white?
   I wasn't as beautiful as you?
   I wasn't on the honor roll?

Or was it because
I was just being me?
Dedicated to everyone that has felt this way and to memory of Sophie Lancaster and her boyfriend, Robert Maltby
Next page