We've all been left alone.
Only our paper and pen understand us.
We're cursed poets.

I'm making faces at my own reflection
Eating toll house cookies , acting
like a monster on brittle knees ,
watching Nickelodeon for the first time
in years , turning sugar cookies into
Christmas trees ..
Watching every leaf spiral , then slowly
light upon the ground , taking in the
outside world with the eyes and ears of a child* ..

The invisible man, and his invisible plan
was to go to the beach and get an invisible tan.
But when he went walking, he heard people talking
about his quite visible footprints in the sand.

the most frustrating thing
when it comes to a writer
is when everything
every word, every letter,
isn't enough to give justice to
the captivating picture of you
in the afternoon:

soaked in sweat,
grinning foolishly,
striking up a conversation
about coffee,
and how unhealthy it is
for me to drink
three cups straight,
to stay awake,

yet the bittersweet taste
stains my lips.

it spills down my throat,
covers my lungs,
and drowns them
with the addicting aroma
of coffee beans
and lazy dreams,
until i cannot seem
to breathe,

and the only thing
i can ever do
is to spill ink
for you.

Remember
When we were kids
And a planetarium
Was a most wonderful place
Everyone simply obsessed
With outer space.
It was strange
And new
And beautiful
It was full of wonder
As was everything
A galaxy of stars
And empty space
We were flying through it all
To a new planet
For us to discover
Floating towards the future
It was like a dream
But as we grow up
We realize
Falling stars are chunks of ice and rock
Not wishes
And stars and the sun
Are ***** of flaming gas
The wonder fades
And you realize
Outer space
Would truly be a lonely place
Alone out there
But I guess it would still better
Than here
And you yearn
For that wonder to come back
But even if it would
Someone would take it away
They always do.
Growing up is sudden
And shocking
And changes you
Forever
And you wish you could go back
To planetariums
And outer space
But you can't.
We are all stars
***** of fire
That will eventually die out.
But some of us are falling
And hoping someone will catch us.

I once was able to run
nine miles a day,
now all those miles
seem so far away.

I am like a tree,
I am rooted where I stand
I am twisted up in unforgiving knots.

I know you think you understand,
but the truth is you don't
because you can move
and use your hands.

I am stuck twisted and contorted
in ways you could never understand.

My back is bent and rusted,
my knees creak and pop,
like an old car,
but I ran out of oil for my joints
now there stuck in odd positions.
You can only imagine.

I hurt, my pain burns to the bone,
grinding ******* my every move.

I can't move like you,
I twitch and ****,
I shake and stutter,
my mind is full of painful clutter.

Dystonia since 1981,
I was born with a twitch, ****,
and a stuttering switch with every move I make.
My nickname is Mizztwitch.*

*© 2017 By Amanda Shelton

The weight of the world is heavy on my chest
I've never felt so alone
I close my eyes and hope to finally get rest
But my rib cage does not feel like a home

My heart beats fast, battered and bruised
I ache and I ache and I ache
My crimes can never be excused
I know I'm an imposter, a fake

A plastic heart where a real one should beat
Glass eyes that cry glass tears
A cracked smile full of porcelain teeth
A wax figure brain between my ears

A pretend human, a forgery, a disgrace, a lie
That's all I will ever feel
Just a girl imploded who forgot how to cry
Who forgot how to heal