Behind her tears
There is anger and sorrow.
Behind her fake smile
there is lies and fear.


She seems to be all alone,
No group to accept her.
Everyday she sits alone,
No one there to talk to.


She started to smoke and drink.
Hoping all the worries would go away.
When that didn't help,
She started to smoke ***.

As she lit up, what would be her last joint.
She thought about suicide.
No one would know...

The next day, she was the talk of the school.
No one knew why?
Her parents planned her funeral.
The star football player cried
The cheerleader felt bad.

Her little brother, wondered what happened?
Why he couldn't touch her?
Her sister became a drug addict.
One boy at school, cried for years to come.
Why didn't he ask her.

I've posted a picture
And no one has liked it
It hasn't a single comment
And I have grown befret

Yes, children are starving worldwide
And that family has no where to sleep
And there is a war just over there
But no one has liked this picture of me

I written a clever status that's sure to cause a laugh
I posted it with complete confidence of it's worth
It's been a full day and not a single person cared
And even though it shouldn't, it really hurts

And it's these insipid, inane, insignificant things
That seem so important at the time
That make me stop and seriously ponder:
'Just when exactly did I lose my mind?'

When did I stop caring about that lady on the road?
When did I stop crying over all the deaths?
When did I begin ignoring that beggar?
Rather than give the dollars I had left?

When did I stop putting trash where it belongs?
When did I stop caring about that abandoned dog?
When did I start accepting that 'things won't change'?
Why am I just realizing I've been jaded far too long?

When did Earth become a vessel for my plans
Instead of my greatest comfort?
When did nature stop being my friend
And become leaves and bugs and dirt?

When did creativity become useless
And business begin to rule my brain?
When did fun become a chore?
Now that I must be 'serious and sane'

It's all the little things that made life pretty as a child
It's all the little things I haven't bothered to do once more
And if I just shook off this funk of 'maturity' and 'sensibility'
I dare say it would all come back and once again, I'd soar.

go through the rituals,
baby
make yourself feel better
massage your own neck
rub your eyes
lay down
until you die out.
tell your chest to be quiet
tell your head to stop pounding
tell your eyes to stop looking
let yourself
calm down
everyone tells you to calm down,
honey
but only when they leave
are you
calm
baby,
rest your
tired eyes
honey,
it won't be alright...
let that
comfort you

Society is a clay mold
Taking every newborn into its fold
Kissing each brow with insecurity, shame
Releasing it's victims, carbon-copies, all the same

Society is a line graph's *****
Plotting point ever upwards in hope
Shunning those who are different, who fight
Loving only those who are "normal", all outliers denied

Society is a disease, nipping at the soul
Filing and wearing down on the young and old
Breaking every innocent into a pessimistic, jaded mess
Rending, tearing, stomping, destroying whatever is left

I am a lonely victorian maiden
who has been washed out to sea.
I pray that someone, someday,
would come and rescue me.
I have but one good, useful skill.
The problem is it won't pay a bill.
I have the heart of a righteous saint,
good will towards others with nary a complaint.
I pledge a harmonious, delightful life;
to my savior whom I'd make a first-rate wife.

Naked footsteps weaving through the room
Echoing desire, a purple halo on the rug, in three;
Touch,
A beautiful touch
Drawn by a weightless angelic blue— cherubic,
Dizzying to our music;
Songs are whispers, forgotten
A chord, melodic and striking
A laugh, enchanting;
It flows through guilty waves of our lust-ridden hair,
Each strand reduced to a corridor for our sweat to travel
Tangle,
Mingle,
Intertwine— down my face, you decide I’m beautiful;
So careless in being careful
Carefree, my caregiver and me
Our velveteen nighttime, cascaded by saturated promises
Air, seeping with the scent of turquoise shampoo bottles,
Of bitter smoke;
The feel of moonlit freedom in my clenched fists,
A beat as consistent as the constellations
More loyal than a living conscious dares,
And I trace the footsteps.