I really identify with goldilocks
Always somewhere she is unwelcome
Gets herself in trouble
Always chooses incorrectly first more than once
And gets burnt and frozen and hurt
Breaks everything she touches
And gets Injured in the process
Unintentionally crushes what isn't hers
Causing other people pain without meaning too
But It's too late to fix by time she does
And in the end
She always runs away
Never facing her fears
That's perfect description of me.

A poem is a harmony
Of words without a melody
It is a written door
Into a world new
A poem is a poets escape
Into a place where emotion glows
And where they can write with passion
Without worry of word ration
A poem is a magnify glass
Where forever every second will last
And the simplest of times
Becomes the hero of your rhymes
And walking home from school
Becomes a metaphor, a life long rule
A poem is an incredible way
To show the world how you feel today
It looks like words on a page
And yet it frees you from a cage
A poem is a harmony
Of words without a melody

I hope one day you learn what it feels like
to crawl inside the cracks in your soul you made yourself
to feel horribly lonely and unloved
but you never will
because in this world
ONLY THE LOVELY ARE LOVED
and only the wonderful are ever wondered about
and you are both
while I am neither

Repost if you loathe the artificiality of society today
Please comment! I love to read your thoughts!

If my mind were an unplugged cellphone

With 5% battery left

As I am nearing sleep

1% to obsess over aching regrets

1% to visit the land of what if and if only

And three percent...

My last 3% to cry inside for you. Not because I wish we could be together like before
Even though I do
But my final 3% spent
To cry for you
Because you aren't happy
I'd give anything

A
  N
    Y
     T
      H
        I
        N
         G

My final 3%

Be it of my conscious

Or my life

...for you to be happy again.

She wakes up so early it's still starry out, so starlight's in her eyes and dew drops cling to her hair like blades of grass as the golden dawn traces her silhouette. She stays us so late the moon know her shadow. She is mysterious as mist on the forest floor to the point that not even she knows all her secrets. She has dark and deep crevices. She chatters like the rapid bursting of bubbles but her soul is silent. Nothing compares to her. She is a shimmering tapestry I'd like to unravel.

A Free Verse Poem from the point of view of one of my male characters in a story I'm writing describing this character. I created her and I fell in love with the character I'd created they way you fall in love with a best friend and your friendship. She is fiction and impossible but she is precious and she is mine. I figured I'd share her quiet beauty with you. Please comment.

I will never wake up looking like the girls do in the movies
I won’t always end up doing the right thing
I can’t promise I will never be angry with you
I can’t promise I will never do things that make you angry with me
I can’t even promise I’ll be sorry for them every time
But I can promise that even if you aren’t sorry
I’ll find a way to forgive you somehow even if it takes years
In our time together
I will have good days
And bad days
Busy days
And sweatpants days
But if you will be there for me
Through the rain
And the storms
And the mist
From sunset through ‘till dawn
I will be there through it all for you too
I can’t promise smiles the whole way
But I will promise you one thing for certain
If you will promise me the same
I promise you eternity

I'm either always second choice
or not even a choice at all
I'm the girl who fights tears during slow songs
at the dances no one ever asks me to go to with them
while my friends go off and dance
in the arms of guys who asked them to
but I never get asked to dance
so I watch silently
because nobody wants to dance with me
I'm the girl who has never looked in the mirror
and felt beautiful
or even pretty
not even half decent
never even average
not even just plain
never felt ugly either
but every. single. time.
I feel hideous
and worthless
and repulsive
and ashamed of my face
and my body
and then I feel ashamed all over again
of my vanity
and pathetic obsession
with being beautiful
with FEELING beautiful
because roses are roses
and weeds are weeds
born a rose, you're a rose
born a ****, well, you're a ****
like me.
and roses will be beautiful
but weeds won't.
End of story.