and one day i thought
i’d like to see the world through my father’s eyes
all roots and vines
and the simple need to create
and the feeling of dirt between your fingers
what does it feel like
to understand how the world works?
not its people, no, more important than that
how the seeds and the buds
and the soil interact
how to make something from nothing
from a small speck enveloped by your hand
i don’t understand
but you do
and we are the same height, but when i look at you
i am looking up
i am looking forward into the horizon
trying to see the sunset like you do
trying to understand the weary way you sit down
and the tired vigor with which you rise early each morning
to begin the cycle again
and i see you standing there, immobile
leaning for a brief moment on the handle of your *****
and i see the world dancing around you
just waiting for the movement of your hands, waiting
for the next order, the next command
the next request, as you begin again
and i try to understand
today, i thought
i'd like to see the world through my father's eyes

Dreary raindrops drip
Racing down the window
Blurring my sight of the world.
We’re moving now –
Unless that’s just the world
Spinning around me,
Trapping me in its tornado of uncertainty.
Or maybe I’m the one spinning,
Going out of control
With no sight of what is right or real,
Hair flying like a madman’s
Whipping through the cold air
And the bright white gusts,
As I attempt to keep up my defenses
Against everything else caving in.

I never thought I would be that girl,
That girl who hikes so high up a mountain
And forgets to bring water, or any vitality,
That gets so lost among the trees,
Loses footing on the off-beaten path that
She attempts to break forewarnings to travel.

That never thought she would go this crazy,
Insane enough to pick all the petals
Off every flower in the field lining the street,
Knowing in her heart and in her logical mind,
That she was just killing flowers
Because she knew he loved her

Not.

Don’t you dare take pity on me.
I am what I am,
And I am because of myself.
My choices, my actions, my feelings, me.
I am not your responsibility
I don’t need you to fix me
I don’t want you to repair all of my tendons,
Replace all of my broken bones,
Stitch up all of my scars.
The joke’s on you, boy,
Because you can’t anyway,
And you’ll never be able to.
I don’t need you to protect me
I don’t want you to comfort me
All I want is for you to tell me the truth –
Is that really so much to ask?
Give me one simple answer,
Make yourself transparent for one ******* second.
Explain one feeling, recite one moment –
Anything with me that wasn’t a lie.
I opened up to you, told you things from the depths of my fears,
And you destroyed me.
So go take your dismal pity,
And save it for your own poems.
I don’t even think I want you to love me anymore.

But I need you to.

A scared, sad little girl arose from her seat
At the dinner table, where thoughts went off beat.
Her plate empty, her stomach full,
And a brain filled with plans
To become a perfect little girl.

So she slowly sunk back to her room
Laid down on her bed, dark thoughts abloom.
Surrounded by the evil voices in her head,
And despite the howls and the screeching sounds,
Those terrible thoughts, she could not shred.

When she later arose with a tear-stained face,
She stalked to the sink, and gripped onto its base.
A glance in the mirror, a monster she saw,
With tiny seeds of self-love and self-hate
And out came that dinner, once and for all.

Eventually invisibility was all anyone could see
As she withered away, she was happy as could be.
Our beauty now lives with a broken mind, body, and soul,
But because of her secret no one shall know,
She forever has a heart full of sadness and holes.

Nervousness sets in
As I await the news
And doctors disagree
About their medical muse.

Confusion swarms high
As answers are not clear
And possibilities come to my mind
Cancer and tumors, the greatest fear.

Anxiety bubbles up
As the next appointment comes
And I don’t know what I want;
My thoughts are going numb.

Sometimes I think the possibilities of health are shrinking
And then I realize… that’s just wishful thinking.

Most girls my age
Make a wish at 11:11.
They wish for Prince Charming
Or to travel to romantic places
And they look for good and happiness.
But I, on the other hand,
Used to wish for the bad and scary –
That is, if I thought a wish was worth it at all.
I used to wish for cancer, or a crashed car
Anything that would make those with experience
Hate my very existence
Almost as much as I did.
11:11 meant a time for tears –
Because I was someone who didn’t care,
Someone who didn’t want a future –
What would I wish for?
A slow, painful death at times
A quick, painless one at others.
Everything around me was gone at 11:11 –
Family and friends and love and future –
My surroundings were a fuzzy white screen,
A television without signal,
With no goal, or hope even, for repair.
It is 11:11 once again,
And though I’ve been “fixed,”
I haven’t taken help in days,
Avoided my chemical necessities.
I don’t want any repair, readjustments
Or the liberation of love and romance.
The only thoughts running through my head
Are jumbled and insane,
As I rack my brain for a new wish,
But I realize I am too late;
It is now 11:12, and slowly I remember
I just made the same wish as before.

Do you ever hug your pillowcase,
Face down, eyes searing through the light colored cotton
Like you’re trying to see through the fabric,
Looking for a reflection into your own head,
Searching for some peace of mind within you?
Peace of mind.
The one thing we all need the most, crave the most
All everyone says is keep looking, keep trying
It will come eventually -
*******.
So the search for serenity continues
It’s gotta be somewhere out there, right?
All that results is overthinking
Thoughts spinning out of control,
And consuming your entire mind.
And now it’s 4am and it stings in the shower
And I’m sorry if you understand that
Because it means you know exactly what I’m talking about.
I’m wondering about you
Wondering why this isn’t working,
Like when we’re sitting together,
You and me at dinner, and you won’t look up.
Is your phone prettier than my face?
I’ll never really ask because, yes,
I am that shy girl I sometimes refer to.
So I’ll keep on searching for answers to my questions
But the problem is that the answers are not inside my wrist
So I’m just going to hug my pillowcase some more,
Thinking about you, thinking about us
Letting the pain seep deeper into my heart.
It hurts because it matters.
And yes, I might wonder too much,
But I’m so obsessed with finding someone to love me
Because I can’t love myself.

And now it’s 5am, and I should probably go to sleep
So I can look okay when I see you in the morning.

Panic. Fear. Trepidation.

All troublesome, yet so well-known.
For these are the feelings that guide me to the path never shown.
I feel... I feel...

Like I want to explode. For there are things that surround me which I cannot abode.

Rules, expectations. Desires and whims. To be the most manly, with bacon strips. To be the most gangster, with rims.

I am no ****, for that is not my way. It also seems that I'm not a "man" for the words I say. Prejudice and judgement, all I face. I thought humanity was a species united for growth and survival. Not divided by race.

Yet I swell with pride, and soar with might. For even though I am not tough, I am ready to fight.

Point, laugh. Whisper behind my back. Because I know you could never launch a frontal attack.

It's all right, in this day and age. Where violence is abundant, rife with rage. I'll rise above you, one way or another.

And laugh as you all seek to **** each other. But for now I wait. Bide my time and plan. Because I see where you all can't.

A place I most certainly can.