Sometimes in
       Life
You wake up
  And you ask
         Yourself
Am I dreaming
       And if so
Please God
       Don’t
Allow me to wake-up
         Because
This dream of mine
   Feels just too
Good to be true
              Yet
I did woke up
     And realized
This dream of mine
      Was actually  
        My reality
             And
       My reality
              Is
Definitely something
          I deserve .

   I truly believe
           I
       Deserve
      A
        Beautiful
Sensitive
       Intelligent
Confident
          Sassy
      Loyal
           Passionate
       Humble
            Commutative
         Honest
              Professional
               Crazy
            For me
Kind of woman
        And
       Because
            Of
      You darling
               This
           Isn’t
                 A
            Dream
                 It
                      Is
           Our reality

All your life
you're told to keep fighting,
to "stay strong"
and to "carry on."

Never once was I told that it was okay
to not be okay.

That I was allowed
to cry
and be upset.

Because my tears were a weakness,
and those words couldn't hurt me,
and my "imaginary” fears couldn't taunt me.

And so I would hold it in.

Try and hold back the tears.
Stare at the ceiling when you're upset.
Distract yourself.
Make fun of your sensitive being.
Turn your emotions into a joke.

But inside,
my throat is burning
and
my vision is blurred
and
my heart is pounding
and
I can't say a word.


Because if I say something,
just one sentence,
everyone will know.

And no one should know.

Because my tears are a weakness
and my emotions are a joke.

And it's true that they teach this.

No,
not in my school,
but in my home,
and on the T.V.,
and in the apps on my phone.

Society taught me at a young age
not to cry.
To "**** it up"
and behave.

Because no one cares
about my emotions
and my feelings
and my well being

until it's too late

and I'm already

too far
gone.

I need therapy
I’ve needed therapy since sixth grade
Sixth grade
When i first needed help i didn’t tell anybody
I kept it all inside and nobody noticed
I figured if people though i was okay then maybe i really was
Then i got worse, caved into myself
Eighth grade
Mom i think i should talk to some, i just always feel off
          You’re so gay
I’ll look into therapists
          You thinks she’s hot
Now
Mom i want to see a therapist
          I just wanna get things straight literally and figuratively
I’ll into it for you can it wait until summer, is it a long term thing?
          Just take a joke, learn how to laugh

No i will not learn to laugh i will not take a joke my identity, my sanity is not something you get to joke about

My life is not some big show for you to watch and critic when it doesn’t fight what makes you comfortable

I will stumble over my words
while I stumble
into you.
Show me where you are wicked,
and I will show you
mine.
Let me taste the pitch black
ink as it drips from
your lips,
and you can read to me
the thoughts you hold
close.
Take me to the place within
where you are not pulled
into a thousand directions,
that one place where
you are still,
that one place where
you are home.

Not Sure

Not sure about the future,
it gets no better, is the rumor.
Not sure about the past,
it sure did go by fast.
Not sure about the present,
right now, I'm popping a tent.
Not sure about the time,
how long do we stay in prime.
Not sure about me,
on that issue, I'll bargain a plea.
Not sure about you,
a friendship still under review.
Not sure how we got here,
someday we will all disappear.
Not sure what life's about,
but I can still make the girls shout.
Not sure about money,
having none, makes eyes runny.
Not sure about ***,
or when I'll get it next.
Not sure about the weather,
when it's cold, I wear my leather.
Not sure why I wrote this,
why are there holes in Swiss.
Not sure about what's real,
or why my skin I like to peel.
Not sure if you're aware,
if I loose my *****, I have a spare.
Not sure if any of this makes sense,
just putting in my two cents.

Silent now the television
Silent now the telephone
Silently I sit here,
Silent and alone.

I’m not sure why the poems
Are much harder now to write
Not sure why the sleep
Comes harder every night
Not sure if all the trials in life
Are harder now to take
I’m not sure that when the morning comes
That I will even wake.

If I was asked to take a risk
Not sure that I would dare
I’m not sure if I was dying
Anyone would care
Not sure that Heaven waits for me
Behind the pure white Pearly Gate
If I asked for fifteen minutes more
Not sure the Reaper-man would wait.

I’m not sure if my mistakes in life
Outweigh any good
Not even sure that honestly
I’ve done the best I could
Not sure when folks remember me
If they will grimace, or they’ll grin
Not sure official scorekeepers
Would vote my life a win.

Not sure if I have lived before
Not sure if there’s a second chance
Not even sure with lessons
I could learn to dance this dance
The world makes me dizzy
The carousel spins too fast.
Not sure my horse could win the derby
The brass ring might have already passed.
But I'm not sure.

Silently I sit here.

PwL 6/16/15

Unsure
Not feeling so sure
Skeptical
Feeling insecure
Bashful
Completely intimidated
Fearful
Absolutely trepid
Doubtful
Unconfident and uncertain
Cowardly
Disbelieving
Shy and coy
Hesitant
Incredulous
Questioning everything
Dubious
Scared to death
Timorous
Feeling so unsure


But will I take the risk?

*Sure...