I remember the scarlet taste
from biting my lips.
I remember the salty water,
that my eyes had dripped.
I remember the silent screams,
that had rang in my head.
But most of all, I remember
all those desperate words I never said.

In the lines around my mouth,
You could read two different stories.
        They could've come from a smile.
          Or quite possibly from a frown.
But honestly you'll never know,
Unless, you brave the risk,
       Of coming to me alone,
and asking me yourself.

What saddens me horribly,
is that we spend too much time tangling ourselves up in our own insecurities.
Looping it around our throats and strangling our souls.
Maybe we need to start carrying around a mental knife...
Start cutting ourselves free before it’s too late.
The slow and painful process of watching a beautiful persons heart deflate from the negative needles that they turn on themselves, is becoming too common and too difficult to see.
Please, know that you're loved,
that you're unique,
that you're beautiful and smart.
Know that you're worthy of kindness.
Especially from yourself.

-Sincerely, A Stranger

Our thoughts are like an ocean.
For they make up most of who we are.
They can be very deep and vast,
And impossible to completely explore.
Sometimes you must tread lightly.
Watch what you do and think.
For there is the occasional drop off.
And with just one wrong step; you might sink.
Though sometimes it may seem scary,
Swimming in the dark and unknown...
It can also be quite beautiful,
With all that life, you don't feel so alone.
There is so many wondrous things,
Going on in our minds.
If we all just choose to open up a bit more,
Who knows what unique things we might find?

You're a million separate puzzle pieces.
Each a little different.
Some are a little plain.
Some are exceedingly detailed.
Some have sharp edges.
And some are softly curved.
But all together,
I know,
it's an extraordinary,
beautiful,
and priceless
picture.
Worth an entire life time,
solving.
Actually...possibly even longer.

When you sit and stare at people,
As they go throughout their daily tasks,
Do you ever happen to wonder,
If the expression their wearing is a mask?
As they walk right on past you,
A smile drawn across their face,
Do you ever think that maybe,
In this world they actually feel out of place?
And when a mother catchers her child being reckless,
You watch as she speaks to him with fury,
Do you mentally chide her instantly, or wonder that if maybe,
That's her way she handles worry?
When a little girl of six,
Sits alone, watching everyone else,
Do you think that she is sad,
Or maybe that she just prefers to by herself?
So many times, so many cases,
We believe our own interpretation,
That our eyes and ears have sought the truth,
But then we learn, often too late, that they'd gathered misinformation.
Oh, all the countless times we see things,
And deem them to mean something of no such,
You would think the we would eventually learn,
Not to so quickly judge.

A flood.
A torrent.
An endless pouring of doubt.
It fills.
It consumes.
It chokes and kills.
You don't see it.
But it's felt.
Inside the depths of my chest.
I'm dying.
It's strangling.
It continues to press.
I try and fail to breath
And the funniest part?
I put on a smile and make a joke.
And no one seems to see.

You lick your lips,
and your tongue slips back behind your teeth.
Just like a sword,
being tucked back into its sheath.
Now, you are preparing for yet another day,
to come out of a dual victorious.
But oh, my vicious opponent,
one of these days your words won't leave me injurious.

Writing is like falling in love; scary, stunning, difficult, amazing, big sweeping gestures, and falling from a plane... but it's worth it.

I remember once hearing,
this sentence when I was young.
That if you really, truly loves someone,
then they're never really gone.
So I loved you like an ocean.
More than the eye could ever possibly see.
And after you left, I did remember you.
But realized, who would ever remember me?

You grabbed my chest and ripped it open,
Until my heart- all I was, fell on the linoleum.
My lungs were full, so with careful precision,
You used a scalpel and made an incision.
For an agonizing time I waited...
As you slowly took me apart and left me debilitated.
You looked at my parts and with a close inspection
You tossed out the ones that weren't perfection.
Then you began to reassemble me, with parts that were new.
While you repeatedly told me how much better they would do.
I believed all of your words and didn't question it.
But once they were in, my chest hurt, and they felt unfit.
I wanted them out, and my old pieces back.
But you said that wouldn't work, I couldn't back track.
Now I'm stuck with pieces that don't fully fit me.
Because I fell into the worlds description of who I should be.

There is no wrong way to write.
Writing is just another form of expressing thought.
Expressing dreams.
Expressing feelings.
It's telling the world who you are.
Slowly.
One
Word
At
A
Time.
There is not one person out there who is born doing it better than another.
Because greatness is only achieved through consistency.
Write.
Then keep writing.
Until your words are autumn leaves,
falling together in little beautiful tufts.

A burning light has embedded itself into your steady heart.
It glows off your milky skin and brightens up your smile.
It twinkles out your eyes like specks of stardust.
And illuminates your profile.
It puts a bounce to your step and crinkles by your eyes.
And it seems to brush it's glorious glow to each passerby.
One day you were asked, "Why does your eyes hold the sunrise?"
And you spoke with a million rays of light as you replied,
"The world has gotten darker like midnight without stars.
As each and everyone of you demoralize yourself.
So, because I see my worth, a moon you think that I've become.
When really I'm just a star that knows within is where my worth's from."

I finds cracks on people
who pretend they're whole.
So maybe that's a blessing.
Or maybe it's a curse.
Either way,
I can't save them all.
And there are too many out there
who laugh with broken hearts.

If your words can touch,
save,
comfort,
or
make someone,
just
one person
do or be better,
feel or understand more,
open up,
trust,
relax,
love,
feel less alone,
even just a little...
Than that's all that really counts.
If you could change just one life...
Do it.
Speak out.
Share.
Just, DO it!
Your voice,
could very well,
be
the one
that
others
desperately
need to hear.

I was changed.
Altered by your words.
Forever deformed...
Never to be recognized.
No longer me.
But scraps of what I used to be.
Your words were knives.
And they slit me.
Ripped me.
Don't you see;
the effect of the words you speak?
Now, may I please
R.I.P.

Oh, how we fall!
Back into our subtle brawl.
Of bickering and silent fits.
Of two at their last wits.
Oh, how we tried!
To just be on the same side.
But we're two separate countries.
Picking a different war monthly.
Oh, how I pray!
That one day we'll be okay.
That I won’t have to watch how I speak.
That I won't feel so left out of your clique.
Oh, why must I dream!?
Of something that will never be...

You can not choose the weather.
Nor the way the day's unfold.
You can not pick out the sunsets colors,
Or soften the winters cold.
You can not change the things you've said,
Or the way that you have cried.
You can not make time answer to you,
For it rides it's own tide.
You can not choose to forget those you've loved.
Nor can you make someone love you more,
You can not pick and choose your experiences,
Or go back to the person you were before.
There is so little you can control in this world,
So very few things we can completely control.
And the thing that I find so incredibly sad,
Is that the things we can, we blow.