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Kenna Marie May 2016
It is okay, for I am the opaque disarray. Often, more than not, I stick out my chin towards the sun. For facing it down would just be a rerun of the past.
Slowly, I thrive, towards a sliver of what I can create. It’s nice to see the focus of the picture zoomed in on someone not so loud. For shouting and being proud is not always the way to win. I walk, towards the unveiling of my life; a red carpet does not appeal. So, I ask, “Will you render that to teal?”
Not even a carpet is guaranteed to be adjusted to please, but I have the feet to carry me and that is all I need.
I’m kind of okay with everything via brain activity. I sent a message to myself, just received. “I was picking out the weeds in a garden. All I had to do was maintain a beautiful green. So refreshing it is to pile them up, dump them and wheel the wagon back for a next time. I put my thumb up to the window, my fingerprints accumulating on the glass. No one else has my DNA! I’m scared of the outside. There is no one to hold my hand when I cross streets at nights. My guide is my sidekick, trusty self and that’s alright.
Kenna Marie May 2016
An avalanche.
Rocks coming stumbling towards me. The warmth of lava makes me perspire but when I run fast, progress is recessed.
Languish buries my feet from underneath. My only supplies are useless... the desire to leave my heavy knapsack is relentless. The rush for survival going on, you think it would be first to dispose... but I am latched onto materialism
Kenna Marie Apr 2016
As reckless as it seemed,
He is becoming the man of my dreams.
I see him in the bright areas of the dismal gray.
I see his eyes flicker when we lay.
And they go off to a special place,
We title it unspeakable.
And when it's spoken, love will be our token ...
Intertwining this rhyme with the blurriest of things in my mind
The ones more clear will soon come out dear
But from here, please take that I'm sincere
And you're a passion sign lighting up when strangers drive slowly and those who drive dangerously. I wave and point to show how important you are. I'm the most consistent  visitor.
Kenna Marie Apr 2016
There is an a long awaited silence as the wind turns the pages and the rustle of the leaves in the sound of the lost. I'm running all day so this bench under the tree strengthens me as I lay. Scoliosis is corrected, my back problems are to those who turned away from me- no chiropractor in need.
Just this tree, which was once much smaller than me came from a seed. Now it is sheltering me. I'm carving into the bench.
It reads, “help me for I'm a broken branch trying to be a tree I am miserably just me”
Kenna Marie Apr 2016
Tired of these predispositions affecting my condition.
Surely people peek out of their fancy yacht and know when to stop.
Give it all you got, until the genuine trials and triumphs come to a rampant end.
Biting tongues, curious on if one might be up for a run we call life.
Second strokes, carefully making sure there's no bruising.
Droopy eyes, suddenly discoloring the atmosphere.
It wasn't really much of a loss, nothing really is when you expect everything to toss.
Got a knife in one hand, your heart in the other. Slam one and one together.
I'm tired of this endeavor.
Kenna Marie Mar 2016
I don't want this written in words. Maybe if it's just in my head, it'll make it less worse.
Feels as if I'm going to burst
Head won't be silent
Thoughts turning violent
Trying not to care
Only been a few years
Tears  still build up here, but put up a shield; one big force field.
No way to reel you in, feeling abandoned up to the brim.

I got into your depth, now all I sense is death. Need a cure before my vision is blurred.  



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Kenna Marie Mar 2016
I figured I was dead, about yesterday.
Did it change my whole life? No, but it made more sense on how things kept evolving and how I didn't feel like I was learning.
And maybe I am stuck in a mood; maybe- I am stuck being you.
I am not the 10 yr old that left this world alone. So yes, I don't know everything but I do know that me, is not you anymore.
My family acts as if i'm around just to keep my spirit out of a tomb. Yet the truth is that I am so buried in the ground.
I’ve been there rotting for years, but these tears won't seem to leave their eyes.
I despise keeping them around because all they're going to get, is hurt.
Because I'm in this loop, endless loop it keeps going on while they're moving on.
I don't understand why they're dragging me with them.
I am gone, thin out of the air and I can't live,
So I'm not heard.
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