There's a part of me that thinks I'm a princess-
theres another part of me that thinks im a despicable vermin.
I'm a royal who lives in a gated castle-
or im a slave who roams the empty streets.
I eat from grand tables with only the finest of people-
or i scrounge for scraps in the trash of the elite.
I look at the poor and pity them-
or i look at the rich and feel envy.
I wear silk and fine linens-
or i wear nothing at all.
I love myself-
or i hate every fiber of my being.
I deserve a prince from a foreign country-
or i deserve the dirt beneath my feet.

"'Tis better to be vile than vile esteemed."
Oh, Shakespeare, knowest thou not what is in my dreams?
I am both for I do bad deeds,
yet from judgement I receive no relief.
Their eyes are adulterate, but so are mine;
both our eyes with sins do shine.
Thou seest not what I do;
I am evil through and through.
The worst of evils am I,
for in my soul I am kind,
though my exterior pierce like barbs,
for I let myself be rule not by my heart.
I soothe the pain with hidden love
praying at least to be forgiven by God above.

Do you ever look back at the things you've written?
If you haven't, I strongly suggest you don't.
You'll find things about yourself lurking behind your own words.
things that you never wanted to know.
Painful memories that flowed through your fingertips
in a moment of breathless euphoria.
You see your despair in every letter,
every tear-stained letter.
You see your hope for happiness fade at every line.
You sometimes wish you could rewind.
Other times you just want to close your eyes.
But you're stuck,
reading words you'd forgotten you'd ever written.
Like a really ****** TV, that only has 5 channels,
And the all play the same show,
With the same theme song,
Replaying the same episodes.
You change the channel hoping to get something new
But the ****** TV keeps mocking you.
You can't stop it,
You can't pause it,
You can't rewind the stupid thing.
You just sit there and cry
and you never know why.

Don’t fall in love with me,
I have nothing to offer.
I won't hold or caress your hand;
I will grip onto it for dear life.
I won't kiss your fears away;
I'm too busy crying away mine.
Our conversations won't be inspiring;
I'm always bringing myself down.
I won't warm your body at night;
I don't think I've ever felt warmth.
I won't whisper sweet nothings in your ear;
I have too many whispering that I am nothing in my own.
Please don't fall in love with me.
I love you too much to let you do that.
Because I won't take away your pain.

I'll only make it stronger.

His eyes flicker across the scenery,
Breathing in every beautiful factor.
He looks trapped in his own world of variety.
Every tree, every bush, every flower interests him.
But my eyes don't care.
They focus on the only beautiful scene in this dark world.
My eyes travel over the golden plains of his face.
Taking in the flow of his pale eyelashes.
I can't tear my eyes away from the curve of his lips, how his teeth worry at the skin there when he thinks.
I focus on the furrow of his brow when the sun becomes too bright.
The twinkle in his eyes when he looks back,
And I just can't look away
Even when our eyes meet
And the skin around his crinkle
Showing all the laughs he had laughed
Showing the happiness he's felt.
And I can't help but wonder
When did he become more beautiful than the ocean,
The river,
The trees in the forest?
When did his eyes begin to shine brighter than the sun off a lake?
When did I fall in love with him?
Then I see him look at her
As if the swell of her nose is more precious than snow covered mountains,
As if her hair is more wonderful than a crashing waterfall.
And I wonder,
When did he fall in love with her?

I'm afraid in this place
full of cobwebs and insects
with more legs than I have teeth.
There is no light, no hope, no order.
The clock continuously strikes midnight.
Morning light is never achieved, never grasped.
Fleeting moments of happiness, joy, love
feed the ravenous spiders within.
I'm free to roam inside,
but I've never felt more confined.

Every beginning
has an ending.
Just as every ending
has a beginning.
A dizzying cycle of beginnings and endings
Never truly ending.
The end is a hypothetical comforter,
Given to those who weep
To give them something to strive towards.
But really, there is no end.
Once you’ve reached the end,
You see it is only the beginning of the end.
Now you’ve wasted away,
Hoping for the end.
So you try and try and try
To grasp the blanket and pull it around yourself.
The end.
But you begin to grow
And the blanket becomes too small
For your now enormous body,
And cold seeps through the end of the blanket and chills your very soul.
Another ending;
The end of warmth, of comfort.
However, this ending is also another beginning.
The beginning of yet another journey towards yet another end.
As you can now see, the end is never truly the end
Simply a mythical pause,
A hitch in your breath
A ray of hope.
The ray grows as the day continues,
But diminishes as the night is ****** upon the earth.
Until once again the sun shines.
Although you may think there is an end,
I can assure there truly is not.
For every beginning
there is an ending.
Just as every ending
Has a beginning.
So to those who weep,
Let me shine upon you
A dabble of light:
If you ever feel that you have hit The End,
I declare you have simply reached another beginning.

Here, in the land of illusions
where time is no longer measured by mere seconds,
but by the number of relentless waves crashing on the shore,
a child calls for help.
His voice is muffled by the swing of the necklaces;
the clicking of the jewels;
the shine of the artistry.
Things that cannot be overlooked overshadow the things that must not be.
Sun burns the skin of the fragile child, the sand singes the pads of his feet.
But the sting of the smile of the blissfully ignorant decimate his very soul.
His only hope lies in the shade of a single blue umbrella perched in the sand, listening to the ticking of the ocean.
There, another child sits and quietly weeps to her mother
of the injustices she cannot change.
Her tears, like the toys of the merchant child,
are a cry for help,
hoping to harmonize with the songs of the helpless,
that someone may hear
and give the child a quarter.

We're all immortal,
until something comes along
and kills us.

Some day,
when your face is wet with silent tears,
I'll cry.
Because of the pain you've endured,
and knowing that there will be more.
Because of the sadness you've seen,
and what you wish could be unseen.

Some day,
when your hands are calloused and worn,
I'll smile.
Because of the man you've become,
and the work you've done.
Because of the past you've had,
and the future ahead.

they ask me why i do it
why i sacrifice my time to it
i never know what to say
                                                      why does one breathe?
                                                      why does one eat?
                                                      why does one walk?
to survive.
to be fulfilled.
perhaps, to escape.

they ask me why it's so special
why i've devoted my life to it
i've decided upon an answer
                                                      why does one work?
                                                      why does one study?
                                                      why does one love?
to gain.
to strive.
perhaps, to stay alive.

they ask me why i love it so much
why i feed off of it
i finally know how to respond
                                                                                I write My Soul.
                                                                                If I didn't,
                                                                                I might not have a Soul
                                                                                At All.

With wings of muscle, they glide over the surface.
Flying towards glory and Gold.
Butterflies of the sea
Swooping, floating, sailing through the aquamarine.
Travelling as if through  space and time,
And life itself stops to admire and gaze.
Nothing can stop us.
Not the waves of the ocean, nor the storms of the world.
Because with the oxygen of the water,
We are unstoppable.
Wind, rocks, trees,
Are no match for the swell of pride and dignity
within in our chests.
On our backs, gazing at the sky,
Stroking grandeur with our outstretched feathers.
We liberate the world,
One sprint at a time.

My mom says she's afraid of herself;
          Of the monsters deep within her.
     They claw at her inside in the day,
And their screams reverberate in her mind in  the night.
          I can't imagine the fright of not knowing who you are.
     The internal darkness that grabs hold of her very being.
I can't imagine the pain of having to be careful around the one person
          You can’t escape.
                                                   Yourself.

She says she's fine.
          That there's nothing bothering her.
     Nothing haunting her in the day,
Nothing killing her in the night.
          But she can't just wish them away;
     Can't win the battle.
She can't help herself anymore.
          She's trapped inside herself.
                        With no one to free her from her greatest oppressor.
            Herself.

There's a fire
that's burning down the town.
It's name is a blaze,
her voice a flame.
Nothing survives,
it all burns until it's black.
It shrivels and crumbles
until all that's left is ashes.
I'm all spent,
you've ruined me now.
Are you happy now that you've burnt me?
Are you satisfied with the fire that consumed me?
Does the sight of my crumpled,
distorted,
soul make you smile?
I've been burnt and it's all your fault.

This is the final countdown.
Only seconds are left before the fall.
Nothing I do can slow the seconds
or stop the time.
Everything I do seems to make it go by faster.
I'm stuck in this moment with you,
not wanting it to end.
But nothing you say can stop me.
In a matter of minutes
I'll be gone.

what do they want
                                     haven't they taken enough
                         my innocence
       my childhood
                                      my life
    must they also take my soul
                             my worth
                                                      my confidence
                must i always be so quick to give in
        believe their lies
                            but they've already cried wolf once
                 i refuse to stumble again
must it be so difficult to turn away
                         to take the blow
                                and not feel a thing
               I must stand tall
                       Even if I am standing alone
                                   I refuse to go down
                                          Without a fight

too many words
sounds
colors
blue
yellow
orange; the prettiest of all.
the sailboat will sail
the bird will fly
across the great blue sky
much like the sailboat
in perfect synchronization
a train
making smoke
an addict, for sure
too many thoughts
sad
happy
loneliness; the most prominent of all.
Escape
I must do it
to escape
my heart
it aches
like the sailboat
sailing across the vast blue sky
out of place
too many people
screaming
shouting
hating; the most often of all.
not enough time
time
ticking
seconds
gone
i jumped
i fell
too much pain
excruciating
stabbing
aching; the worst of all
but then
       it's gone
                   i'm
                         free

I look up at the ceiling of his bedroom.
Lines of laughter plague its surface; they mock me.
They know what we did last night.

Patches of snow are scattered across the floor.
A single, red, lighter lies on his bedside table.
A flame; a feeling of inexplicable ecstasy.

Ecstasy; that's it.

I look out the window of his bedroom.
Tree branches dance just outside; they mock me.
They, too, know what we did last night.

Dark pools under my eyes try to balance out the glassy appearance of dark brown orbs.
A few syringes, used and empty lie by the bed.
A needle; a feeling of maniacal ecstasy.

Ecstasy; that's it.

I am here, and you are there.
we seem to only be a breath away.
I could reach out and touch your perfectly sculpted face,
cold as a statue,
but warm as a flame.
I could trace your features,
lingering on the lips I've longed to kiss.
I could run desperate fingers through your hair,
feel it slip like water,
unattainable.
I can see your eyes, hooded by silk curtains,
bright as your smile.
Your teeth,
perfectly aligned as you smile;
the happiest sight in the world.
I am here, and you are there.
But as the void fills and the crowd overpowers us,
suddenly,
you're light years away.

A star that may have burned,
     exploded,
          died,
Three billion years ago
     still remains alive in the hearts of children
          with curious eyes and
budding imagination.

A memory that may have  dissipated,
     dissolved,
          evaporated into thin air.
Still has the power to
     Pierce a heart,
          Melt a soul,
With a desire to have the unattainable.

A love that may have crumpled,
     deteriorated,
          shattered
Three years ago
     can still make tears fall,
          and hearts clench
With thoughts of what could have been.

I'm afraid of a lot of things.
Creepy, crawly spiders,
Flying, vicious bees,
The monster under my bed,
Shadows in the forest.
I fear the idea of an inevitable death,
I dread living my life alone.
I'm terrified of the future.
The only thing that eases my worries,
Is knowing that you'll be there with me
the whole way.

I once was a kid,
Just like we all were.
I once saw the world through child-eyes.
I once chased butterflies,
And caught them.
I once danced through fields of flowers,
Breathed in the scent,
Of unattained dreams.
I once stared at a window,
and thought of all the beautiful things beyond.
But I no longer am a kid.
I now see the world through adult-eyes.
Butterflies are chased,
But never seized.
Field are left unbothered.
The aroma of dreams still lingers in the air,
Waiting to be found,
But left hidden.
I now stare at windows and only see the rain,
The clouds.

I don't care about you.
I don’t care about your smile,
Your perfect teeth that seem to glow.
I don’t care about your problems that you always trust me with.
I don’t care about the sweet nothings you whisper in my ear.
I don’t care about the precious moments we’ve shared.
I don’t care about how your hair feels when it runs through my fingers;
Like water.
I don't care about your jokes that pull me from my sadness.
Or your stories that help me through life.
I don't care about your music that saved my soul.
Or the poems you wrote that melted my heart.
I don't care that I love you.
I promise.
I don’t.

My mind is a swirl.
It twirls and whirls and twists.
It never is quiet, it never is still.
My mind is a swirl.
Unceasingly inventing, endlessly creating.
My mind is a swirl like a tumult ocean
rocking a sailboat back and forth until it overturns and
dumps out all of its beautiful contents.
My mind is a swirl that encompasses my body,
lifting me up,
bringing me down.
My mind is a swirl that twirls and whirls and twists.
It never is quiet, it never is still.

Dear Dad,
You're my day,
You're my night.
You're my sunny weather,
You're my brewing storm.
Like the wind you're there,
But then you're gone.
Like the sun,
You warm.
Like the moon,
You cool.
You raise me up,
You bring me down.
But I love you either way because
Dear Daddy,
You love me too.