I'm not "smart" like them.

I'm not "bright" as them.

I'm not "confident" like them.

I'm not "beautiful" as them.

I'm not "someone" like them.

Can you just accept that?

I don't like crying myself anymore

-Said myself in the mirror.

You do weird things when you don’t know what to do,
Like to refuse a kiss just because something will see what you do,
Or offer a hug that will be awkward for the two of you.
You try to figure **** out,
Seeking multiple advice without doubt,
With ultimately following your instincts all throughout.
I should not but, I apologize as I feel that is how interest feels like,
As if you were to plunge as your training wheels were pulled out of the bike,
Or that thing in your stomach when you are to speak in crowds and are given the mic.
I’d say I shouldn’t have done it,
Yet saying that would mean nothing as I feel no guilt,
I am learning — creating the me that I know and feel I can be built.
Oh, but hey, that doesn’t mean that if given the chance I won’t take,
To go at it again for fun and freedom’s sake,
Let’s do it and enjoy being each other’s mistake.

There are days in which my mind seeks poetry
Poetry of all forms and aspects,
Poetry in its truest, simplest form
In a form only I can feel

A poetry of free formity, balance, and stature
That equates to thoughts and structures
Of my free mind

There are days in which the poetry I seek doesn’t reach me
Just existing as a mere thought
Through which I wonder,
Will my poetry ever reach me?

When alone
It drifts silently to the dust
When joined
It soars through violent wind gusts

When alone
It is frail, and if pressured, will break
When together
Not one will you easily take

When alone
It is considered extremely light
When connected
They carry an eagle in flight

When alone
A feather is still a unique and beautiful thing
But when united
They transform into a stunning, powerful wing

Deep inside where nothing's fine
I think I finally lost my mind
.....
The deeper I think
The deeper I seem to sink
.....
I don't want to be me
I don't want to be someone else
I just want to disappear
.....
And then the last thread snapped,
leaving her without a reason ..
A reason to breathe
.....
Flavored bullet shots
Deadly love
Stolen screams
And broken cries

I am not reading poetry.
I am cupping the words
in my hands, pouring them
over my head, rubbing them
through my skin, into my bones
breathing in
breathing out

becoming a poem

I want my love for myself
To overflow
And I want my overflow of love
To seep over onto you
But for now
My cup is empty
And maybe you can sense
That I have nothing to offer you