God, do you see me?
God, do you understand?
I'm reaching out to find my world being a mirror.
wishing for sight, but wanting to run from what I see.
So sad, so full, so empty, so minimally, tragically in need.
So inept. So innate. No sense, just walking around the rubble that are my thoughts.
the most beautiful voice singing my sad story.
learning, but tearing.
Move some mountains for me God.
Hear me, hear me, hear me.
Hear what I'm afraid to ask for.
Take me as you find me, all my fears and failures,
fill my life again.
I believe, but my own hands cover my mouth & eyes.

I can't stop crying.

within
the dips of temperatures and temperament
I have found my peace.

I did it again, though I swore I never would, that the last time was the end
leaving me wondering at my own morals and the value of my word
and how much in life is built on "never again"?
The dirtiness, tangible and muddy,
the soil on my soul
Lord I swear, I just don't know how I allow
myself to be cajoled
but the breath on my neck and the honey on his lips
make me surrender it all, make me want to lost it all,
just to taste a bit,
so I take another hit,
and get home under the sheets and fill myself with why's,
not even truly sorry,
and craving the music in his sighs

there's so much in me that's ashamed.
a sudden shove to realization, truths uncovered, memories turned poison.
the ugliness of sin so unbearable you try to run, to find it being your feet.
the want. the need. the blurry lines.
the lack of skill. the craving for meaning.
the obligations and the sluggishness.
waking and sleeping and waking and sleeping.
trapped beneath.
someone, anyone, God, love, get me out!
shouting, realizing Time and whatever good lives in you is all you have to carry you.
a storm grasped in a fist but I'm not that strong.
I'm no poet, but I carry words in me like extra organs,
and right now I'm so sad I just want to document such poignancy.

you cut me so deep with your silence.

going on day 3.

I get so caught up in trying to make it all beautiful.
"These are your glory days, darling."
Sixteen and full of potential energy.
Flammable youth, some would say.
What will I become?
I'm in love and in debt with possibilities.
My insides are soaked with prayers and... want.
I'm tired of trying to be what I don't even think I want to be.
what everyone else expects of me.
I want to be free.
Free from grades and the cliches.
I'm sixteen! I'm supposed to be free!
My life isn't even worthy of any label.
I'm merely a reflection.
Oh, God.

Not a poet.

stuck.