She went into the forest
The darkness soaked her up
Into the forest she went.

The deer
It has no fear
She went into the forest.

The fox
to thee it talks
Into the forest she went.

The crow
thy anxiety will grow
She went into the forest.

Death shall occur
What will thee prefer?
She went into the forest.
Into the forest she went.

When I read what you write
all I want to do is sing you a song
because I want you to
always feel like you belong
when I read what you write
and it seems like you're feeling kinda bad
I just want you to know
that I feel more than slightly sad
but I will always say
write about what inspires you
poetry should come from the heart
it should always have meaning too
and when I hear you sing
I want you to know
its beautiful, just like you
even if you don't think so.
And I know you know,
no matter what
I could never hate you...

Let's pretend no one else exists

We write to reach out
to anyone
who is close enough
to read the words
that spill from our minds
Trying
without gain
for those that stop
to make them see
to make them stay
If only long enough to feel again
but as is the way of things
they linger for just a moment
then continue on their way
as the world stops for no one
and surely not for the troubled writer
lost in isolation
and ever searching
for a friend

I hate it when they call me cute,
or pretty.
I am so much more.
So much ******* more.
I could destroy you.

I am an intelligent being,
capable of many things,
i carve my path in life;
I do not search for your approval.
I do not need your validation
of my outward appearance
to feel accepted.
I am aware of my own self,
and all that I possess,
so much more than 'cute'.

Save me from hearing
your stupid compliments
None of what you say to me,
has not been said
to every girl before.

You are why I think
Uncontrollably
About everything wrong
Apparently
Unable to stop
Even if I try.

You are why I love.

You are why everything is wrong
In every possible outcome
And why it always will be.

You are why I'm lonely.

You are why I sit in the dark
And talk to myself
Or is somebody there?
I guess I'm talking to you now.
What was your name?

"Hi, you can call me Bee"

You were the reason I could clear my head
You were the reason I got out of bed
You were the reason I went for pointless walks in the middle of no where
You were the reason I made it home
I would stop you from fighting
You stopped me from hanging with Bee
You let me forget my thoughts
You were my best friend for 2 months.

You're not here, and the bad influence is back.

summer days
                                       wishes floating away
                                                                              on the breezes that tug my hair

Am I so oblivious, that I notice nothing?
Not my friends newly dyed hair or green pea coat.
I miss the looks, the stares,
Stuck or maybe protected in my own little world....

i was taught that
it takes about 80 milliseconds
for thoughts to be processed
so i ask myself everyday
why does my brain choose
to break my heart
80 milliseconds before i think of you

I want my last words to be remembered.
I want them to be so grandiose that it is like a gunshot through future generations.
I want it to reverberate beyond the time that my mortal coil is shed
And live on in the hearts of man
I want them to be cross stitched on the pillows that line retirement homes.
I want them to be the ashes from which a revolution is born
The fertile ground from which peace may grow.
I want them to be the muse that inspires creative thought.
I want to live vicariously through those few sentences that leave my mouth alongside my last breaths, but then I think better of it.
I want my last words to be a whisper,
I want them to barely make it past my lips.
I want them to sooth hatred and calm anger.
I want them to lull the aching soul.
I want them to point the way my spirit will leave.
To the father, who is waiting for me.