i opened your file
and what i saw
was diferent than what i expected;

i saw that you were
sad, pained,
angry, confused;

i turned the page.
you were suffering,
afraid, and alone;

i looked at your photo,
it was diferent than the you i knew,
you looked terified and sad;

i printed a new sheet of paper.
it said that i would be your friend.
that i would be your friend no matter what;

i fastened the new page in the folder
cautiosly, caringly,
with a paperclip.

have you ever been bored?
and just look at the sky?
have you ever been bored?
and asked yourself why?

have you ever beed bored?
and should you ever even try?
have you ever been bored?
and were to tired to cry?

have you ever been bored?
and done something weird?
have you ever been bored?
and try to grow a beard?

if you've ever been bored,
you know its a pain.
if youve ever been bored
you know it comes from the brain.

i've been bored,
how about you?
cuz if you've been bored.
i have too.

have you seen the dark of night?
the shadows that lurk closer?
the eyes that follow your every move?
the cold dread in the air?

have you seen the flower bloom?
it withers until it is black as black.
it releases the spirit.
it haunts you forever and ever.

have you seen the glowing eyes?
they are in the dark.
they are in the shadows.
they are everywhere you look.
they make you afraid.

have you seen the shadow woman?
i lost her.

there is a little monster that is with me everyday.
the monster made me feel sad and hurt.
the little monster didnt like me much.
i spent so much time with it it became a part of me.

the little monster made me feel aufull but i kept him.
i kept him close to my heart.
the little monster was a part of me after all.
i would be nothing without it.

the little monster was nibbling away at my soul.
someone asked me if i was fine.
i didnt feel fine but, i knew i would be.
i told them i was alright because i was.

the little monster almost desroyed me completly
but then i reilized that the little monster was not a part of me
but it had already dug into me deep enough
i couldn't get it out by myself.

so i asked for help.
it was so so so very hard.
i went to them and i told them i wasnt alright.
stumbling through my words as the little monster tried to cut my tounge.

but i did it.
they got me someone to help me reach down
and pull out that monster inside of me.
finaly after being locked up, i was free.

i could come back someday.
but not today.
today i am happy.
today i am free.

my brain is dead.
i cant think straight
my head is blank.
i cant do stuff.

i am an idiot sometimes.
what have i done?
why did i eat that
gross almond joy?

facepalm.

listen up
this is important
dont ignore me
just listen

it is very importand
life or death.
if you dont listen
i will be very angry.

this will save my life
listen
listen
are you listening?

good.
now go get me some chocolate.

it doent matter the color of your skin.
we all look the same on the inside.
mostly red.

chrunchy munchy penutbutter.
creamy candy cats complement.
can he candy the crunchy penutbuter.
cup of cruchy penutbeter.
cost 3 dollars. count them please.
crunchy munchy penutbuter.

cold water
flowing fast
carrying leaves
animals drinking
others hunting
going forever
never ends
not until
the ocean

twenty-four, twenty-four, twenty-four bugs.
tiny bugs, a bit smug, evil ones, crushed.
little heads, smaller legs, concrete beds, dead.
twenty-four, twenty-four, twenty-four bugs.

i am wearing the same thing two days in a row
why do you care? its cute though.
i like this shirt and jeans a lot.
i wish to wear them before they get washed.

debt is worth opportunity and chance,
infused with exceptions and doubts.

red, orange, blue
rose, apricot, sky or
love, giddy, and calm
is it red, is it orange, or is it blue

if i were to define life
i would say

its a bunch of questions
where? when? why? how?

its all those choices
this, that, you, me.

its the breath you breathe.
in, out, in, out

its the thought you give.
love, joy, compasion, symapthy.

it is amazing and wonderfull
dont let it ever let it go. ever.

pequenos charcos se acumulan en el
suelo con cada gota;

el cielo llora y los ninos corren afuera
para jugar en el barro;

miras hacia afuera y cuentas las
sapicaduras en la ventana;

uno, dos, tres, cuatro, cinco... rayos...
seis, siete, ocho, nueve, diez. suena el trueno;

los ninos corren dentro y miran por
la ventana;

esta lloviendo en la primavera.

i lie in bed. 9:00
i listin to music. 9:05
music turns off. 9:30
i close my eyes. 9:35
i open them again. 9:50
i get water. 10:00
i lie back down. 10:10
i close my eyes. 10:15

i cant sleep.

i fall asleep. 12:00
i dream. 12:30
i dream. 1:00
i dream. 2:00
i dream. 3:00
i dream. 4:00
i dream. 5:00
i wake up. 6:00
i go to school. 7:20
i lie in bed. 9:00

repeat.

when the sun comes up
when the birds start singing
i like to go outside
and count all the dewdrops
on the tulips in the garden
and wonder what its thinking
does it like my company?
or would it rather be alone
and look at the sun?

small puddles form
on the ground with each drop.

the sky cries and the children run outside
to play in the mud.

You look out and count
the splashes on the window

one, two, three, four, five ... lightning,
six, seven, eight, nine, ten. thunder sounds.

the children run inside and look out the window.
it is raining in the spring.

the little wooden sticks
able to hold fire in its hands
will burn to ashes eventually
so it sets something else on fire
before it dies.

The snow crunches underneath your feet.
the wind wipps past your face;

Your ears turn pink
and your lips are chapped;

You walk into the garden,
everything is dead;

Except one thing.
roses in the winter.

the poem is ours.
ours to write.
it is mine to keep.
mine to treat.

the poem is like my child.
dont want to let them go.
i wright them and love them.
and i want them to grow.

when asked why i wrote them
im not always sure.
its made from emotion
from my ever turning soul.

but i love my poem
no mater my heart.
my pen is on paper.
geting ready to start.