We are nothing but birds,
With broken wings.

We are the kids,
You would be nervous around.

But we are the kids,
We are most comfortable around.

We are the birds with wings,
Snapped in two.

But Anne,
Her wings have healed and she will fly.

And Max,
His wings are splinted,
But they work.

Veronica,
Her wings were never completely impaired,
But now she flies gracefully.

Zach,
His wings are impaired,
But he has learned how to use them.

Sabrina,
Her wings are lifting her higher then before.

Mitchelle,
His wings are lifting him,
His troubles leaving him.

Sarah,
Her wings have lifted her troubles away nicely.

These people,
Will live to fly another day.

Us poets,
We feel before we speak.

We think before we act.

And we taste each word,
Before putting it onto our paper.

I’m screaming at the whispers of you
To shut up.

Asking them to just let me believe I’m happy.

Because if I can’t convince myself
How can I convince you?

"I have to go" he mumbles into his pillow.
"Don't leave me." She whispers, her voice showing her fear.

"The darkness is where my fears lurk."

She feels your eyes cascading down her body,
She cry as you try to kiss her once again.

Your drunken state cannot do this justice,
But your drunken kiss is not something she will miss.

She feels broken,
From the countless times she has been hurt.

He tries to hurt her again,
She screams from all of the pain.

If there would be fire,
It would light his desire,
Or his drunken breath on fire.

He laughs when she screams,
She cannot believe she has to feel these things.

He has hurt her,
She is wondering how long until,
She gives in to the pain,
And gives her life away.

Trying to write happiness,
Is painfully boring for me.

Trying to be exciting,
For your eyes to see,
Is extremely tiring for me.

Trying to disguise myself,
For the sake of your eyes,
Makes me want to strike myself,
Messily in the eyes,
With a rusty knife.

Trying to change the way,
I write,
Makes me want to,
Spontaneously Ignite.

You'll try to pull your heart back together like a piece of art that you got rid of,
And he will kiss you,
Kiss you like he isn't the one holding a gun to your neck whispering the sweet words,
Do it.

And you'll be so happy because you're no longer fighting for him,
But within the weeks your heart will once again feel like he took an iron and placed it there
Telling you,
Here. Hold this for me.

You'll see him around, probably with another girl,
And you'll ache because she's "prettier" then you.

And your friends will do anything to distract you,
Some of them might even say you're better off,
But you'll feel like you're about to throw up at the thought of that.

Because you're holding so tightly to your heart because you feel it might fall out of your chest if you let go.

You’ll hold the duvet over your head,
Afraid of what you might see if you let it go.
Afraid he might be gone again.

And he'll come back, telling you the wonderful words,
I still love you.
And you'll break at the thought of him leaving again.

But you'll give him your heart wholeheartedly because you love him.

But he doesn't,
Soon you'll realize the game being played,
But you won't care.

It'll come to you late at night sometimes,
The nights when he's "loving" someone else.

And it will hurt like hell,
And you’ll claim that you’re done

And one day you will be
But as of now you haven’t been.

But I’ve always been one to surprise people.

You're the kind of person that makes flowers grow.
Your smile makes me want to cry,
Knowing no one elses smile will ever come close.

You're the kind of person,
That makes birds sing.
Your laugh makes them sing along.

You're the kind of person,
That can calm an ocean.
Your small happy attitude,
Keeps it calm.

You are the kind of person,
That can handle me.

I can't honestly believe you are changing me.

But you are.

Your imprinting on me like a fresh scar.

You may say,
Sexuality is a choice.

It isn’t,
I am pansexual,
I am 14,
I was born like this.

You cannot tell me I am confused,
When I have always been this way.

I may not have said anything,
But obviously this is not a choice.

I was afraid to disappoint my Mother and Father,
I didn’t think they would approve,
If given the choice I would be straight.

But obviously I am not,
I was born like this.

Do not have the audacity,
To tell me I don’t know who I am yet.

I may not no who I am,
But I can tell you this,
I know who I am interested in.

I wander this earth,
I feel the soft grass under my bare soles.

I breathe the honeysuckle tainted air.
Listening to the bee's buzzing through the trees.

I picture this place without air,
Then realize nothing would be here.

You are my air,
Filling me with life.

You are my bee,
You keep me alive like I'm a small flower.

You are my soft grass,
Giving me a place to stand and rest my worries.

You have no idea,
The effect people have had on you,
Until they are gone.

He was a great person,
A great kid.

Too smart,
He should have known,
Not to do this.

I'm in pain,
Your death,
Hitting me like a bullet to the brain.

I can feel tragedy,
Flying around me,
Like a haywire freight train.

Suicide,
Seemed to have been the answer.

Micheal,
I am not religious,
But you will be a glorious angel.

I can hear music,
In everything you do.

Music is and always has been,
My passion.

It is there when I need someone,
It has been my shoulder to cry on many times.

Music,
Is my lifeline.

Maybe,
Your my new lifeline.

When your laughing,
I hear whimsical bells dancing in the wind.

When your crying,
I hear violins softly playing.

When your mad,
I hear an piano piece, loud and abrupt.

When you say you love me,
I hear loud, beautiful, guitars strumming a quick beat.

You make my heart beat faster,
Then any of your music.

Screaming,
Is believing.

Believing,
That your words,
Will be heard.

You may hear,
Seeing is believing.

But you see,
I believe nothing,
Yet see everything.

I do hope that when you get a new girl,
You treat her better then you treated me.

You treated me worse then you would treat,
The **** in the street,
Or the dirt on your feet.

Because obviously,
You only wanted me to use me.

The beauty in pain,
Is pain is beauty.

How would that work you may ask.
The more pain and suffering you have taken,
The more wise and beautiful you become.

You know how it feels to be at your lowest,
And you know how amazing it is to be at you highest.

Weather or not you are happy,
You are beautiful,
Because you know,
How it feels to be ugly.

Ugly is not a feature,
But an action.

The way you act says if you are beautiful,
If you disagree,
That is your choice,
But from what I see actions,
Control beauty.

Beauty is in the actions,
Not the features.

Baby, please drop your razors. That lighter it's meant for fire, not to burn your skin. Do you not realize how amazing you are to me? Do you not realize your pain causes me so much misery.
Please shread that suicide note. This is not the way you are destined to go. Step off that chair, you were never ment to hang there. Get away from the ledge, I can't catch you there.
The simplest things may hurt you. Is this really how you want to go? As the middle school tragedy?
Why would you want to go this way? It will just cause everyone else so much pain.
Your smile could light the darkest of times. Let it continue to shine, if you go away you could no longer be my light when my mind becomes dark.
The pain of you being a middle school tragedy will overcome me, take away my smile, bring back my frown. Don't do that to me. Leave me and you take my happiness with you.
Your laugh makes everyone else around you laugh. Not because it's funny, but because your happiness is intoxicating. Let it continue to intoxicate the world.
Please do not become the next middle school tragedy.

The broken heart.

The crying girl.

Her life sent into a bright white whirl.

He found her.

Broken and bleeding.

Crying and pleading.

He grabbed her hand.

Held her close.

Told her she wasn't like most.

He made her feel warm.

She forgot about the cold.

When she tried to remember he handed her a jacket.

He kept her warm.

She hopes never to feel cold.

He promised to keep her heart warm.

Even when his is solid ice.

Babys,
From there giggles,
To there smiles,
Babies can make life worth while.

They can give you,
Many sleepless nights,
Or many cuddle fights.

From their kisses and hugs,
Babies are probably one of the best things to love.

Becca,
The wide eyed beauty,
She sits across from me.

Filling my eyes with wonder,
With her small little comments.

Math.
Seems to be her weak suit,
But thats what I'm here for.

From her little baby pictures,
Or the Mayday Parade thing,
On her wall,
Becca never seems to fail at shocking us all.

Little Nurse Becca,
Filled With Curiosity,
My little inspiration,
Saying,
Write one about me!

I stare at my screen,
Where it once read your name,
It pains and it aches,
Knowing it won't read it again.

It hurts so bad,
This pain inside,
It's about these dumb feelings,
The ones I can't hide.

I feel so hurt,
That you told her,
About how we were,
"Meant to be"
And yet you can't seem,
To find the time to speak to me.

I thought we were friends,
The best at first,
But you told me you liked me,
Then our friendship was more you,
Being a flirt.

Yes,
In time I began to flirt,
But that didn't mean,
I liked you at first.

It's kinda insane,
That I grew to like you,
But you don't understand,
Is I liked him too.

I liked him first,
I wanted him first.

But when we get together,
Your presence seemed to disperse.

I started to like you...
Yes it's true,

Dear dot dot dot,
I really did like you..

I don't want to die.
It's to easy.

I writher in agony,
Feeling the bruises coming to my body.

I try to scream,
But my throat runs dry.

Sobs rip through me,
At an undying pace.

I feel myself being maimed,
My body has been marked painfully.

I smell the sicking musky scent,
He continuously applies.

My sobs are getting worse,
The pain becoming unbearable.

I am numb,
Feeling nothing,
But still feeling everything.

My body is a canvas,
Of multi-colored graffiti.

Bruises scattered here and there,
Repeatedly.

I cannot move easily,
I am moving painfully.

I am hurt,
I’m pained,
Not only physically,
But mentally as well.

As all good things begin,
Once upon a time.

But what if this isn't,
A good thing.

What is it is per say,
A very bad thing.

But it begins with once upon a time,
There was a girl in red.

But it wasn't her clothes that were,
Red.

It was her wrists,
That are scared and in pieces.

And to anyone that see's this,
She's becoming lonely,
Feeling so alone it should be illegal.

But this is normal for her,
She feels so alone,
It as if the world doesn't exist.

But you see this is normal,
For a girl like her, you see,
Because I have felt this way before.

And I bet you will never believe,
That girl was once me.

Are those girls,
That you claim,
Nothing happened with,
Better then me?

Do they make you,
Happier then me?

Are they,
Prettier,
Skinner,
Happier,
Then me?

Because I'm wondering,
Why if it was always,
Only me,
Why your kisses,
Seemed so distant,
Lately.

Because it makes me wonder,
Is there a problem with me?

Is there a reason,
You want other girls,
Then me.

Babe,
You were my one and only.

But now I see,
I was one,
Out of many.

You can want more then me,
I understand,
I've always wanted more then me too.

A girl with a lovely face,
Still cuts her wrists.

Her smile, proves nothing but she can act.

Mikala,
The tiny, little blonde.

Her pixie cute hair,
And her blue/green eyes.

She's pretty short,
But what she doesn't have in height,
She makes up for in personality.

He personality is so bright,
Like a star on a dark night.

Mikala.
The tiny, little blonde.

Dalton, Is the tall boys name.
Without him this place would change.

He's rather weird,
But laughs with us all.

The tall skinny boy,
With dogs and birds on his wall.

He can't seem to sit still,
Like a bird,
His heart beats to his own will.

Vic Fuentes,
is Life.

Vic Fuentes,
is Love.

Smiling is a thing that takes less muscle then being upset.
You can easily put on a smile and say you are happy.

Then why does it seem that it’s easier to be sad?
Why does it seem like it’s easier to shoot for sadness,
Than happiness?

Sadness is intoxicatingly painful,
But happiness is like glitter and butterflies.

But why do we choose the pain over the happiness,
And not glitter and butterflies over pain?

It just seems to be easier this way,
We choose the hard road over the easier.

Maybe that's just human nature,
We enjoy difficult over easy.

But it hurts more in the end,
Why do we choose it though?

We choose to be in pain,
Versus being happy.

Why would we choose this?

Because it seems to be an easier thing,
Happiness,
As odd as this sounds,
Is harder to handle.

There are people that say,
That depression,
Is Ok.

There are people that say,
That being bipolar,
Is just another disorder.

There are people that say,
That having anxiety,
Is a normal thing.

There are people that say,
Being Unhappy,
Is a thing that will just pass.

The best part is,
Depression,
Is not something that,
Should be a part of your everyday,
Life.

Being bipolar,
Isn't a joke,
It isn't something fake,
It's not just another disorder.

Anxiety,
Isn't a regular thing to have,
It is annoying to have,
And hard to deal with.

Being Unhappy,
Is a very bad thing.

How would you,
Feel,
If you were hurting daily,
Because someone said,
Your problems are a normal thing.

Do the other girls,
Look nicer?
Talk sweeter?
Sing louder?

Are they better then me?
Why are you choosing them over me?

I can feel it.
The walls are closing in.

I'm trapped.

You wouldn't realize I'm dreaming.

It isn't real,
But it is real,
My mind,
Makes me think it might be.

The air is tight and stale
Suffocating me.

Perhaps someone is smothering me.
I mean,
I'm asleep right?

I hold my hands against these tight walls,
They seem to be tightening
Pushing against me.

I can feel everything
How is this possible?
I'm not awake.

This is all fake
Nothing happened,
Yet, I'm feeling all of it.

My heart is beating fast,
Sweat dotting my neck.

That's when I hear a small voice,
*You're not real.

If hatred is a strong emotion,
How are you still standing?

Because,
My hatred is very strong when it comes to you.

What if there was nothing.
Nothing musical.
Nothing artistic.
Nothing beautiful.

We would roam the earth,
Feeling nothing.
Hearing nothing worth value.

We would be so bored.
Most of us
Wouldn't see a purpose in life.

Me personally
I need music
It’s my lifeline.

Music is like a rope,
Holding me to the Earth.

I feel it digging into my ankle
Keeping me in touch with reality.

I feel like a balloon.
Full of helium
Floating inches above the earth
But the rope of musical notes keeps me here.

I can feel the bass
Jumping through me
Jolting me into the world.

I feel the music,
It’s holding me safely.

I’m not leaving that easily,
My music rope is holding me.

I'm blind.
But not sight wise.

I'm blind heart wise.
My heart feels,
Never sees what it is doing.

Maybe that's how I get hurt so easy.

Dream louder then you speak.
Speak louder then you dream.

Happiness is intoxicating.

If you really wish to be with me,
You must know certain things.

Like my insecurities
Rules most of my personality.

I'm bipolar,
When I am happy,
It's like happiness is right next to me.
But when I'm sad,
It's like I've never felt happiness.

When I am with you though,
It's like happiness is completely in your control.

You make me smile.

You make me happy.

You make me feel like nothing could go wrong.

I sense a hint of crazy in you*

I sense your senses are off because its more than a hint.

When did we become this?
When did you begin to make me happy?
When did I await your messages to no end?

Why can't I describe these feelings?
These beautiful feelings,
But they are only beautiful because they are about you, you see,
Without you I wouldn't understand beauty.

You make me smile like an idiot,
And blush hotter then the sun.

Baby,
Don't you see what I've become?

I'm becoming a girl,
Who is helplessly in love with you.

Please stop me,
Unless your planning on catching me,
Because when I fall,
I will fall hard.

I see it,
The way you look at me
When you believe I am not awake.

I see the pity and fear in your eyes,
The emotions you try to hide.

I recognize them,
Only because I see them in mine.

Wretched emotions that I often run from,
Find me more often then not.

But only,
Because I cannot stop.

I do not stop and feel.
Because feeling could mean,
Accepting something is wrong.

Maybe not accepting it,
Will make me think it is not true.
Because accepting it,
Makes it even more powerful then before.

So I cannot,
Stop.
Because stopping,
Means feeling.

He makes me blush uncontrollably.

He laughs at my weirdness.

I have a slight addiction,
My obsession with your eyes is more powerful,
Then a drug addiction.

I see the color of your eyes,
Filling the skies,
The same colors as blue birds that soar in the sky.

I really enjoy the tingly feeling,
That you give me.

You give me the happiness,
I have been without for so long.

I was in need of something powerful,
To fill my days with joy,
But you gave me something more,
Potent then red wine on white sheets..

Filling my eyes with joy,
Each word you choose to speak.

I softly whisper the words,
That have been played through my mind,
Millions of times.

I love you

I don't care,
If you believe it is true,
Because I know that it is undeniably true.

I love you

It is becoming bothersome,
The amount of times,
Your name has been said.

Each time it triggers my heart,
Quick like a rabbits,
Happy like a kid awarded,
With a fresh ice cream cone.

Why is it I cannot seem to get you,
Out
Of
My head

Please,
I'm pleading with you now,
Never leave me.

I am afraid that if you do,
This thing they call heartbreak,
Will consume,
The being I call me.

So,
Please,
Once again,
Never leave me.

He took me on a tour today,
He goes,
No dad.
No dad.
No mom.
Different dad.
Adopted.
No dad.
No mom.
Grandma.
Different dad.

It is not the parents,
That left us,
That define who we are,
But it is who we choose to be.

Because it is all a choice.

If all roads lead to Rome,
May I go to Rome?

I no longer wish to be,
Home.

I was asked,
Why do you write so much.

I wasn't sure how to respond,
Should I say it's my happy place,
My escape?

Or perhaps it's my attitude,
The reason I walk with strength not weakness.

It makes me brave,
And courageous.

So my question for you,
Is why don't you write?