I want a man's heart
Is that selfish?
I want to write him a melody
Is that normal?
Sing him all the love songs I know
Is that too cliche?
He has my heart, mind and soul
Yet still doesn't know.
I am his but he still has to prove
That he can make it so.
I just want to laugh with him,
Write his name on my heart,
Be the only one in his eyes,
Show him how I love his heart.
He's my one and only
And I know he cares for me.
Haste the day when he
Can proclaim it openly.

Compared to how it was
My patience has become vast
And though I sometimes get the urge
To force it to go fast
I've realized that it is sweeter
To not manipulate the weather

Seasons come and seasons go
But whenever I'm with you
My favorite season swirls around
And lifts me up again, right on cue.
Though words have yet to be spoken,
Surely you can read it in my expression

How happy you make me
How deeply I admire you
How hopefully I wait
How whatever you do
Is indicative of something about me
Because you're all that I can see.

My mind had been wearing me thin
which is ironic because the thing is
that it was so churning because I longed to be thin.
No matter, anyways, the problem is
it became too much for me to bear
so I took it and entrusted it to a friend
and it was safe when I put it there.
However, my mind had its own thoughts to tend
and escaped to become malicious again.
Crept back to me and wore me down out of revenge.
But thanks to my friend, I was strong enough to win,
by making it submit to my desire not to binge.

Two paths wind back and forth
towards each other
never daring to meet.
Tension between them
not worth baring, yet
two paths are better than one.
Comfort in knowing of the
other's presence,
but distance is their beloved
safety net.

Sweeping strokes of yellow light
form my bounding flame.
A few dark hops of where my
structural components lie.
My light pours out of the glass
to brighten the night.
I watch the path before my keeper
and take away his fear.
The hardened heart is softened
when it holds me near.

I wish I was a puppet
I'd just take out my stuffing

I wish I was a statue
I'd just carve myself to my liking

I wish I had a disease
one that killed my appetite

I wish I could trade my time
for a different appearance

More than anything I wish I could
cease to care about outer looks.

Came home again today
monotonous words were ritually exchanged.
She's always chipper and he's always severe,
I no longer feel at home with him near.

Do some things out of obligation,
avoid some things with procrastination,
do my best to avoid aggravation
by focusing on product accumulation.

Then watch some TV
though I find it boring,
it passes the time
and distracts from reality.

Get drawn towards the pantry
the fridge calls my name
I eat because the alternative
seems impossible, so I'm put to shame.

So I give in, as usual,
then feel disgusting.
Wallow for a while, then
get on with life.

Wait for the cycle to
take over my mind and body
again.

I never say what I really mean.
First I'm fat, then I'm lean.

I like to talk at an ambiguous stranger
sometimes I can only boil with anger.

I get cut short in an argument
then I doubt the things I really meant.

Cruel people come across my path
but never directly release their wrath.

Sometimes I linger a little too long
on stuff when I get it all wrong.

But life's just too short to stay stuck in a rut
so sometimes I've got to let go and give in to my gut.

P.S. I have an after thought
I'd like to acknowledge that though I've sought

to abide by instinct instead of sorrow
it's really more of a dream for tomorrow.

Haha, go against the grain.
Oh no, what if they think you insane?
But really, it's just for the love of the game
And honestly, who's gonna remember if you're lame?

An inner dialogue familiar to us all
but it's so far from the right way to overcome a wall.
We shouldn't be asking if the risk is worth the fall,
but rather if we ourselves are done with trying to be tall.

Strength and courage doesn't come from easy-won success,
but in the ability to admit to the fact that you're a mess!

It comes back with a vengeance
when I least expect it.

Last time I was able to survive
but now I can't figure out how to feel alive.

When it comes back it warps my heart
and makes it harbor shame in every part.

Then I think of you, how you loved me
even through my misconception of my identity.

This disease comes and goes but can't control
my canter with the One who bought my soul.

My thoughts are chaos,
but I've grown used to them.
I've given up trying to organize them
but I will never stop trying to document them.

I believe in the truth of moments
that draw in deep thoughts,
that if all else fails, these wistful minutes
shall endure as silent prophecies.

And the ideas formed in these times
are to be shared with the world
and not kept hidden
because one day they could make a difference.

Because one day when you are out of the mire,
you will need to relate these thoughts
to those who are stuck in the mud
so that they will be comforted.

Because one day the moments may
not come by so often and you would
give anything to have them back.

And because these thoughts could be
the beginning of a revolution to spark
a new awakening in how the world works.

Could you please search me with your eyes again?
Our little game was harming no one.
Too shy to talk, but observing was fine,
I personally found it intensely divine.

Then nothing came of it, so that happened again.
We didn't even talk as friends...
I conclude quite decisively that next time I won't think twice
before I approach someone who looks at me nice.

Easier said than done, can't put words into practice
especially when the subject is also number one hot prince.
Is my imagination playing tricks on me or is he staring?
There's nothing more dreadful yet also exciting.

Fun as it is, I'd like to declare
that we should talk to each other to validate the stare.
It's so hard, I know, and incredibly awkward
but to end the eye game, it would be worth a few words.

Didn't make an effort, probably didn't really cry.
You were once my comfort, now I bet it was a lie.
'Cause I tried to stay in touch
but you ran before I could scarcely clutch.

So I see you for who you really are:
pathetic, afraid, afraid of loving from afar.
I don't care what you may think of me
just go your own way, hypocritical as can be.

My admiration must've gotten lost
after you were there for me, then decided I wasn't worth the cost.
And even if that's not how you meant it,
it doesn't matter because that's how I took it.

And now you can't even patch things up,
I suspect it's because you're a shallow cup.
So you can go to hell, you **** at follow through
and I've learned you're really bad at being my idol too.

Want, want to stay in your paradise always
yearn for your presence when you're out of touch
flames trickled at first and then ate us in a blaze
barely remember how it was to feel your embrace.

Lost into oblivion, a dispersion of family members
all my doing, my fault, my fault, my death.
Wounded and weeping, helpless by my own choosing
flames easily stretched us apart an put us fully in the dark.

Desire to bring them back, yet constantly brinking on goodbye,
can't do it again to me or to them.
So far so good, my loneliness reasons.
What was ventured was also lost, so don't try again.

Heart yearning for the sweetness of others,
can't reach them under private enclosures.
Liquify my excitability, lose my desire for company.
Stillness is all I have, it wraps around my destiny.

I may be inexperienced
in the art of romantic relationship
but I know the pain of a broken friendship
under the influence of mere distance.

The person's absence
makes a lapse you don't notice
but it feeds on your confidence
like a black hole.

Familial comfort gone,
darkest days spent alone,
it's useless to make any groan
because there's no one to hear.

Breathe through the motions
and persuade yourself
that isolation is normal,
and maybe dependency was too easy.

Snap out of the lies,
seek out friends to share your life.
The world looks much nicer
and receiving love makes you kinder.

I guess it was all my imagination
I thought he might pick me over them
Crazy to think he'd ever digress
and pick me to be his princess

I put on a face like it doesn't matter
like boys are all dumb and immature
But the truth is that it'd be really nice
to melt into him when I don't suffice.

But now I'm not sure if such a man exists
that can deal with all my hellishness
So onwards I trudge, lonely and scared,
and hope that one day he will be prepared

To come in and sweep me off my feet
like a fairytale where we're destined to meet--
both of us will know it's special
and we'll mold effortlessly into one vessel.

Once a day I rise
I'm barefoot in the black.
Then I'm not because I'm back
To ritualistic movements.

To taste wispy moments
Of temporary happiness
And grasp at withered dreams
Hoping not to fade again.

Don't arouse fake hope
It only traps you in
So let the darkness invade
Like it's been waiting to

Tremble in weakness
And shrink and shrink
Because it amounts to
Your very essence
Be that dismal as it may

Know that slowly
If you try
You will rise
To softer days.

I've reached the end of the path
and I'm coming out of the haze.
I can now look back and gaze
at my torn and twisted past.
To find the silver lining
I focus on the here and now
and compare it to bitter days
when I stood shaking and so afraid.
I credit my transformation
to my dear friends who showed
unconditional love even though
I thought I was a mere shadow.
My hope now lies
in the love they poured out
and I can open my heart
to rich relationships
abounding in love.

Is something missing in me
That I truly cannot believe
That my savior feels anything for me.

He's just a big brother figure
Who watches me suffer in pain
But always when I cry out
He'll have nothing to aide my strain

No matter how hard I try
It's a stretch when I pray
It's like believing a fairy tale
And donning faith to portray.

I cling to Bible verses
But lately I've been lazy
So maybe that's why
I've been falling apart recently

With a cloud of issues
Surrounding me ruthlessly
I can't and shouldn't be expected
To obtain a relationship easily

With the One who I blame.
Who has never intervened
Who is capable of healing the lame.
Who died for me, but doesn't
Save me from my pain.

Sometimes after it's been going great
Life hits you like a chalkboard slate
With a message that leaves your ears ringing
And tells you it isn't done stinging.
What I do is let the tears come down
Until I somehow manage to hide my frown.
I feel abandoned, inherently messed up
And wonder how I've never completely given up
But I've made a pact with myself
That I will figure out why I've been through such pain
And the ground I've lost, I vow and endeavor to gain.

Recently I've begun to think
that my talents need to consume me.
There's some genius hidden underneath
and I want to unleash its glory.

But there's a wall in front of me
and I lost my desire to uncover
and create the things my mind can see
because I feel utterly incapable
of producing the key
to unlock my creativity.

Fear of failure at its worst
can paralyze my sense of duty
to do what is right and instinctual.
I wrestle all the time
to do what I love so passionately.

Over the years
the problems add up
and it's like looking
at a clothesline
that you've always hung
clothes on.

They slowly dry one by one
but I re-wear and re-wash
some of them so that they
never fully dry.

Others become dry yet
looking at them is tragic,
even though I will never
have to wear them again.

Knowing I will always
have to wear clothes,
I hope to one day
get rid of my heavy ones
and don ones of lighter fabric.

Then the problems will
be of my choosing
and I will have issues still,
but they will feel much
more manageable.

Sometimes listening
To music
Is all that's needed
To recharge

It's the connection
To a song
That can synergize you,
Comfort, and understand you

Excuse me, who gave you my stamp of approval
to look at me with such audacity?
If you enjoy looking and not talking, I suggest you google
girls with no self-respect or authenticity.

You think I enjoy being stared at by a stranger?
Or is it that you simply see me as an object,
or that talking to me would result in danger
of finding between us a mental disconnect?

Listen up, boys of age middle school and onward:
girls don't profit from any gawks or crude comments.
And if you want a real relationship that's less awkward,
then make conversation, start friendships, then commitments.

How can I capture one little topic
when my mind is wandering in every direction?
I think of everything, from films most iconic
to broad theories of being, such as evolution.

I guess my mind is both blessed and cursed
but really my focus is just the worst.
I can't settle for surface talk, I like to dwell
on academic things, even if I don't listen all that well.

The best is psychology, with Freud's crazy ****** exaggeration
but I also like biology, especially dissection.
I tolerate sociology, and mingle in english
where I rock at vocabulary memorization.

Honestly though I can't say I'm genius
because my recall is actually hilarious
I get off track quite easily
and I'm pretty sure I'm ADD

So I'm blaming that currently
for my lack of concentration intensity
and I need help right now
because my work reflects that of a cow.

Dreams of wide open spaces
filled my younger years
but what if those places
only lead to lonely tears

I summon energy
to fight for my rights
and get back the dignity
I lost in previous fights

I wonder if I really
have the power to do so
because so far I've clearly
failed painfully going solo

It helps that my conclusion
about life in general
is that this world is an illusion
and underneath is all spiritual

so what I've suffered has been
intentional and I'm sure
one day I will guide women
to a new life, bold and pure.

If anyone has a right to be angry, it's me.
Everyone has a right to be angry, probably.
A few things I've found disagreeable with society:
that's my eating disorders, depression, and anxiety.

Also my family never noticed anything wrong
and continued to blame me if I couldn't go along
with any of their superficial acts of merriment
which hid deep flaws, there's no way I could act content.

Why did I feel like I didn't have a choice
but to hide everything and not let anyone hear my voice?
Because I was so afraid of being imperfect
and thought that because I was sad I was somehow incorrect.

So here's to all of you out there
who are trying to fight back your despair.
You have a right to feel the way you do
so get the help you need, and let yourself shine through.

Let's take a moment to reevaluate
the current dilemma going on in our state.
Feminist ideas have been topic of debate
but I think in the USA women are treated pretty great.

Sure, taking steps towards improvement
wouldn't be a bad achievement
but we should try to make an international movement
before we focus on our own further development.

If we want to help true women in need
I beg you to look at the cries they plead
in other countries where men solely lead
and women are the victims of atrocious deeds.

Meaningless, meaningless, everything is meaningless.
On my own, I am nothing, a mindless wanderer.
Day by day, I prostrate and kneel
Ask the Lord that through Him I might feel
steady and strong, that my steps would not be based
on pride, depression, and grudges I've misplaced.

I learned not to just ask for what I want
and trust that God will give me what I need.
And everyday my pride requires me to plead
for freedom from worldly desires
so that I can use the gifts that He requires.

Failure is always imminent upon me
but fear can never be my captor again
and when I was weaker I faced fears of rejection,
but now I know I will never be alone.

Still silence perturbs my hours
and doubt often controls my heart.
I've felt abandoned more times than I can count.
But when I try to deny Him and leave
He won't stand for it, and brings me back to cleave
to His promises that seem so lost and unclear to me.

And though I know some things with certainty,
like how I'm loved and known specifically,
I never feel these things consistently
and in fact distance from Him is basically
all that I have ever known and can see.

The only real reason I can give
for my faith and why I still choose to live
Is that words in the Bible reverberate with me
they come alive, if you read it you'll see
so I will wait for the Lord,
more than the watchman waits for the morning,
more than the watchman waits for the morning.

Most girls secretly aspire to be prom queen.
I went a different route in high school.
I frankly hated makeup and generally being a teen.
My mask read "misunderstood, mysterious, not cool."

The roots of my disgust were probably not genetic
because my sisters both happened to wear the tiara.
So I guess I never won a crown for being kind of eclectic
but somewhere out there I'll get a reward just for being Sarah.

And it won't be a flimsy plastic headpiece,
but take a form of deeper meaning,
it has value that can only ever increase,
and it will wipe away any bitterness of my not completing
a stupid family tradition of being ******* prom queen.

It is not intentional, a separation of worlds.
I am standing, waiting for when I
have to lend a helping hand. The party
has come and gone, and I am eager to be on my way.

There is a truck backing into the lot,
a U-Haul with two workers.
One is beside the truck coaxing the driver along.

There is a strange magnetism between his life and mine,
that brought him and me to the same place.
Though he never sees me,
I feel responsible to remember his face.

A dimension lapses between us,
though time and space remain the same.
Our entirely separate lives happen to cross,
but no one expects a reunion in the future.

"Fantastic four!" they've said before,
but I see nothing heroic here.
The four of us lack a bond of trust
and we were once so full of playful lust.

Among us are earth, wind, water and fire,
and everyone else seems full of desire
to know us and our sibling powers.

Fire, full of brutal wit and honesty,
all you are is cruel to me.
You treat me as the dirt beneath your feet.
But I am earth and I take your ashes in my stride
to make me stronger.

Water, you are vital to my health,
without you I would have no wealth--
you give me plants, ideas, and long ago
I saw you as my idol. Now I'm older
and no longer aspire to be who you are,
I see your flaws and try to be myself,
yet still partake in all your benefits,
those that you are willing to offer.

Oh wind, dear wind, you are my laughter!
I love you more easily than either other.
You give me hope, and sunshine,
and though sometimes I'm overwhelmed,
over all I'm so glad we are family.

I am earth, and I am always in shadow,
though you don't mean to put me there.
Under the radar, I love you each
and miss the days when we were young,
before envy, competition, and distance
were ever able to separate us.

I don't want to be chased or pursued
or judged or abused.

I want to reach into my mind's recesses
and tap into my wildest places.

When I'm on top of my own world
I'll finally find myself unfurled

and nothing will suppress my glee
of unveiling what's inside of me.

I see all the world's deceptive lies
that once revolved around my demise

but this time I will not falter,
and instead I'll be standing at the altar

waiting for my Bride of life
to erase my doubts and be my everlasting wife.

Dear Higher Being,
My rage practically makes me too blind to write
that you would be so omnipotent, yet abandon my plight.
It isn't any wonder that I question said power
Seeing as you constantly enable my devour.
What was once easy to distinguish
is now hazy and cause for my anguish
I separate myself from you
because I hate all the things you do.
Call it selfish, immature, spiteful and stupid,
I will always find what you allow to happen to me putrid.

Beauty is all around me, it's in everything I see.
From fixed up barbies to the wind in the trees,
I'm aware of its power to compress an hour
into one tiny moment of awe and admiration.
If this is all I see, would there be any beauty left for me?
I'm not so sure I fit the bill, for beauty is still,
and I am like a hive of bees, with all the conflict inside of me.
But just by watching beauty be,
some chaos stops and ceases to be,
So whether I'm beautiful or not, I don't let the outcome be my lot.
Rather my oasis lies in noting beauty, like the skies.

When you crept in I began to wither and succumb
to everything you stood for while my soul turned numb
Now when I think back I wonder who was the culprit
I skepticize and am rendered blind, so I pretend not to care
But you took so much from me that I have to know why
you came in and fed me such diminishing lies.
I wait with my scars that now define me
for an answer to make me happy.
Now in this time of lull
my productivity takes a toll
perhaps you're not gone after all,
but no, I'm still here standing tall.
So what then will define me now?
I will wait until I find out, I vow.

Can I just slide off the map and learn to re-adapt?
I want to start all over in a place where my mistakes are lost.
But I know I'll never be that clean again,
and I'll be under scrutiny from now until the world ends.
It's not that I don't like where I've been,
I just regret the way I handled some challenges I met.
So shame is my only companion now, as I look back on some other times. And I'd rather not dwell on it and let the past be in the past,
but it comes in waves every once in a while, the shame
I left in that place. So I really would rather not return,
but abandon it once and for all.
I'll start all over, older and wiser, and this time
I'll make a better call.

In language as in life,
the secret's in the strife.
The key, you see, is to question everything
and you'll make a conclusion quite astonishing.

For sometimes facts are just opinions
or there's been an alter in your perception
just from surfing channels
and hearing from deceptive panels.

It may not be easy to question authority,
but you must get past that boundary;
once you do,
you'll find yourself Anew.

Scoundrels they sure are,
scoundrels they may be,
but they are people too,
only different from you and me.
Maybe their violence
is caused by their predisposition,
genetics, friends, and lack of conviction.
Sure, they are responsible,
but we must take into account
how circumstances can *******,
and crime is a ripple
that is innate in our being.
Only self control is taught
to most citizens, who ought
to make an effort not to critique
but rather to set an example.
If we enter into their lives,
maybe they will learn to sympathize,
and realize they can take a different path
instead of searching to unleash their wrath.

Take everything in your stride,
let nature be your guide,
don't fear anything unknown,
creation is something made to be shown,
And if we do not take advantage,
it is only to our damage,
For the great outdoors presents adventure,
unlike most things that are under censor,
The sky is the limit to what you will see,
For nature was made for you and me,
To be an example of purity.

Distance is not a friend
when love is an ultimatum.
However distance does contend
especially when imagination sets in.
A moment was the beginning and end
of all there was and could have been.
Because since then a fantasy world
of mutual longing has butted in
and keeps me from being myself around you.
So this distance is completely untrue
but still defeats a potential love from within.

You never give a warning sign
but simply put me in your design
so you can plot my self demise
and twist me into a smaller size.

I know you relish my torture and pain
but I'm here to say that from you I gain
For if I'd never passed by your hideous face
I'd never be able to win this race.

As I frantically try to escape you
I'm prone to not know what to do
So I sit and let you take over,
Wait until I can be my owner.

I let you sneak in and control my mind
and understand there's nothing you can find
that will make me less of who I am
and that's when I'm able to be me again.

To be what culture is not
Who would have thought?
Don't be a size two
or disguise the real you.
Be what you are
Bring out your star
that shines from within.
Intelligence, creative, adrenaline--
Is that so far fetched?
The picture I've etched,
Now go be yourself, what culture is not

How can all you say be noise to me?
We're so close but you never understand fully
What I try to tell you gets tucked away
and then disappears in the disarray
That clouds your mind so comprehensively
Because he will always matter more than me.

What an example you two have set.
A love so exceptionally perfect, and yet,
when the product of it sees its depth,
it feels alone and out of reach of its breadth.
Considered simply a factor, not an individual,
How can one help but feel like a second thought, just residual?

I tumble through weeds and begin to drown.
When I look up I view a face with a frown.
My solution to hide from it is to look down.
Clawing, scraping at what I have left--the ground.
Losing control, less control, lost control
Losing heart, losing mind, losing soul.
You dig deeper into my skin than I can dig in the dirt.
One day I realized it no longer hurt.
To hear every stick and stone you would blurt.
It only made me see that your manners were curt.
Losing control, less control, lost control
Losing heart, losing mind, losing soul.
Your invasion now has little power
But I can't say it will be gone within the hour.
Still I bloom like a flower
That has been stunted by a selfish rain shower.
Losing control, less control, lost control
Losing heart, losing mind, losing soul.