Eyes
       Fluttering
                      Mind
                              Sputtering
                                               Lips
                                                     Muttering

Hands
          Shaking
                      Bones
                               Aching
                                          Heart
                                                   Breaking

Pain
      Showing
                    Tears
                            Flowing
                                        Sorrow                                                  
                                                  Growing

Nails
        Gripping
                      Skin
                            Ripping
                                        Red
                                             Dripping

Girl
      Falling
                Mother
                           Calling
                                      Life
                                           Stalling

Head
       Pounding
                      Silence
                                 Sounding
                                                Death
                                                         Grounding.



-ARI

Individual perception creates alternate realities. Infinite views.
Some shared among many,
Some among few,
Some are created and confined within one.
Objectively, everything is real.
Because nothing is real.

Youve asked me
To describe her
For you say you want
To understand her.

But all I can say
Is  that she
Is simply a poet
With a shattered pen.

Life's ink has stained
Her slender fingers
Dark blots cover her paper
But still she writes.

You cannot understand
Illegible scrawls
Scattered across
Once clean paper.

To you it seems as if
She's finally gone mad
Perhaps she has
Always been mad.

But she is brilliant
For she has hidden
Her broken pieces
Beneath those ink blots.

If you truly want
To understand her mind
I suggest you start reading
In between the lines.


-ARI

She smokes in front of me
Knowing that the wind is carrying my hair to the back of my face
Knowing that I despise the smell of cigarettes when it beds in my hair
Knowing that she will leave traces of her breath on my skin



-LynnAA

I hate this small town
full of small minded people
who suffocate me with empty promises and spiteful comments about the way I look and act.