1.That one special day in March where it's really warm.
2.The joyful laugh of a small child.
3.Asking questions.
4.Getting asked out by someone you like.
5.Realizing who your best friend is.
6.Seeing someone trust you.
7.Writing Poetry.
8.Making something amazing and destroying it.
9.Acting in Plays.
10.Making other people laugh.

Slobbering slime rolls off its mouth
creepy crawlies are marching south
evil eyes and jiggly jowls,
sinister laughs and winning howls
a flash of teeth
from underneath,
a throaty growl
you sit, try not to yowl,
the bed will hide its enormous bulk,
these evil things will never sulk.
A shattering cry pierces the night,
now it’s time to run in fright.
You run and run and run and run
trying to escape to a midnight sun
you search for warmth, you search for heat
you can hear the pitter patter of shuffling feet
down the hall you scamper and dash
running away from the smell of ash.
You open the doors to your parents room,
hoping to escape the metallic vroom,
you dash and scurry up on to their bed,
and snuggle between them, your feet by their head.
They wake and ask “what’s wrong, dear?”
You answer with a tale drench in fear.
But Dada and Papa only smile at you.
They say, “follow us”, and you do.
They take you back, and turn the light on,
And show you the monsters, but now they are gone.
In their place sit ordinary things that your imagination makes,
And you realize that the monsters are fakes.

Slobbering slim rolls off its mouth
Creepy crawlies start marching south
Evil eyes and jiggly jowls,
Sinister laughs and winning howls
A flash of teeth,
From underneath
A Throaty growl
You sit, try not to yowl
The bed will hide its enormous bulk
Evil will never sulk
A shattering cry pierces the night
Now it’s time to run in fright

Mountain, sing me your song,
let me listen, let me sing along!

If I sing you my song, will you stay?
Will you never go away?

Mountain, I cannot not promise, but make no mistake,
I will stay here longer than I can stay awake.

My song is long and lonely,
As it is the one and only

I have lonely songs too,
I have one just for you.

Sing it to me,
Sing it, and be free

O, lonely mountain, can't you see?
You sing a song of great sadness, the same one as me.

I start out as a small seed, pushed deeply underground,
then I am a sprout, small and happy.

I grow leaves and am bright and happy,
I have a head, small and green.

Then....
I burst through the green and reach for the sun!

The sun is beautiful, and I am a sun too,
But I am waiting for the moon. It is beautiful also.

I become the sun of the night,
And the second sun of the day.

I keep growing, and it becomes hard to look at the sun,
my head heavy with pedals, and seeds of my own.

Staring at the ground that I came from, and I drop my seeds.
And I start again, as a small seed, pushed deeply underground.

home is a palace
collected from mismatched limbs
and abstract ideas

walls are red and yellow laughter
built on the blue foundations of  a friendship
it is a couch made of quiet silver kisses and brown eyes

home is an memory
recalled from mouths rattling on
and unnecessary comforts

I can hear the song of thunder,
The pounding in my viens,
A heart to heart encounter,
An exchange with no need of names.
The water pouring from the heavens high,
A open heart to the rushing rains,
Slipping away in powerful tides,
These eyelids are just the window frames.

I see your words
but they swim past my eyes
and dart past meaning,
a fleeting fish from the abyss
of a mind.
A mind that has alway been kind,
That has always been softly spoken,
a mind awoken from a slumber of slurs,
and artificial words,
that created artificial worlds.

Yet even when our worlds collapse,
You insist on the playful insult,
and the teasing tone we take,
it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts.
But we don’t care,
You scream out a name unknown to me
as I whisper out a prayer ,
“This isn't fair.”
And we hear your silence like the echo of a drum
with its constant ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum
of emptiness, and loneliness and lowliness
along with every bad emotion that has ever been felt
by a teenager going through her faze of
hatred and self inflicted torture of the mind.

But through the dark of universes,
I hear your speech,
with words that shoot past my ears like stars
leaving a trail of chalky stardust
and dusty letters
to be unremembered by.
Galaxies glide by in this suspended time
and I realize that the words on your lips are not ours,

But mine.

I smell dew in the air
yet the sun is setting
I see green of new grass
though first snow has fallen
I feel the sharp chill in the air
but the sun still shines
it is a strange wold
we live in
today.

I feel your stones sink in me
they rest like broken bones trying to find there homes
nesting in a soul that’s plucked out like a bird,
shot down from the sky and is all you do ask “why?”
Your truth falls away, a glimmer of false hope that sits in the distance
and then it’s gone but all you left was resistance and you still take a stance.
No one can hear you but those that are dear to you and even they turn away their ear.
We are homeless here. We are hopeless here.
You still chase after it even when it’s gone and so on and on and on it goes
the bird shot down hobbles onto it’s toes and still tries to take flight
but not even with the will of its might
can it fly off and disappear into the cold night of our forgetfulness.

She is beauty
She is pain
She is fire burning through veins
She is hope
She is hate
She is loveless, not believing in fate
She is heaven
She is hell
She is locked away, her mind is her cell
She is you
And she is me,
She is hero, begging to be free.

Who am I to call you a misfit,
when I am one?

who am I to judge you,
When I am also to be judged?

Who am I?
Who am I?
WHO AM I?

Who am I to tell you who to be,
or how to be?

Who am I to tell you who you are
when the same question roams my mind?

Who am I?
Who am I?
WHO AM I?

I am me.