Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
What is pretty I wonder?
what is ugly?

What is it about those six letters that cause such desire and pride?
What is it about those four letters to make one so sad inside?

Six makes you beautiful for a day,
Four makes you self conscious the rest of the way.

Who set the standards?
Who created this lie?
The lie that it doesn’t matter so long as you look good on the outside?

How can four make your soul crumble?
How can six make your soul sparkle?
Why does four make you die inside?
Why does six breathe you back to life?

So yes..
what is pretty I wonder?
What is ugly?

Is it silky hair and velvet skin?
Is it smooth voices and shining grins?
Is it bright eyes and twinkling laughs?
What is it about six that four will never have?

Is it little freckles and crooked teeth?
With little regard to what lies beneath?
Is it bright red acne and stretch marked skin?
With no thought of the soul within?

They say four is a poison,
So they made six the cure...
But they had no idea
what six would make us endure.
unspoken words spill through the air,
dripping and falling both vile and fair.
unspoken love unspoken hate,
I see it all no need to blate.
In anger your vision clouds in reds,
when cold clarity smears my vision instead.
In sadness you worry and weep in pain,
wondering if perhaps I'm just not the same.
But sorrows, I have no time to attend,
all I can do is assure your still my friend.
In happiness you claim, I'm the best friend you've had,
when in reality I'm wondering, if you've gone quite mad. :)
I see it all, both old and new..
from the silent worry to
the unspoken "I love you"s
to this I say no need to fret
for you I can not abandon yet.
and as to the love, you keep silent in fear,
you know that I cannot help you here...
I belong to another, yet i still hold you dear,
and know, that as a friend, I shall always be here.
for the eyes of one man alone to hold
for to him this poem is carved from gold.
when a boy shows you his hands
bare except for the dust
he’s begging you to look past
take them in yours.
squeeze them once.
twice.
say without speaking
that you understand that the valleys
in his palms were meant to cradle
shooting star wishes
that he’s allowed to still hope for.
when a boy shows you his eyes
of milk and crimson and melanin
a bloodshot vein for every night he can’t sleep
let him shut his eyelids.
say without speaking
that you understand that the black hole pinpricks
of his irises hold more than the universe
should allow.
when a boy shows you his soul
shivering but still working toward friction
iced over but still working toward melting
let him come to rest next to yours.
say without speaking
that you understand that he is lonely
and that his silence speaks volumes
and that you kept his treasure close
because you love him.
when a boy shows you his hands
show him your hands.
when a boy shows you his eyes
show him your eyes.
when a boy shows you his soul
show him that
this is a comfortable place to rest it.
when a boy shows you the hardness that shaped him
show him the softness
that you have in store.
k
I own about 300 books.
That's 300 main characters,
With roughly 2700 sub main characters.
Its about 12020 chapters,
With about 162600 pages
And about 3252000 sentences,
With roughly 55284000 words.
And that doesn't even account for all the books I have read, which if you know me, is most likely an impressive number.
Yet, of all the worlds I can slip into, with all the characters and personalities I can become, with all the differently written chapters, of all the beautiful unique words....
I can't seem to find the will to escape, can't seem to find the right story to disappear into. Can't find the perfect character to adapt to, can't find the ability to slip into the vast worlds of paper and ink... Of all those beautiful words, can't find one among them to place my emotions much less hold my attention.
I hate it when this happens,
When you can't find the will to disappear into the one thing you love, and have always been able to rely on to escape for just a short while.
No instead your stuck in your own mind with all of its dark chapters, distorted stories and twisted characters. Where, those same beautiful and unique words, are all jumbled together strung up in all the wrong ways. Oh what a dreary feeling. A hopelessness that consumes ones mind, usually so full of humor and imagination, now tethered down to a morbid and dark world
Ode
An ode to a girl I used to know, whose world was a gift  all wrapped up with a pretty red bow. Who knew not pain nor sorrow and sin. Ready for this life she was destined to win.

An ode to a girl I used to know, whose family rules made a line she kept to a toe. Testing herself through ignorance and sin, learning to pick herself back up again.

An ode to a girl I used to know, who learned to love the sinners row. All wrapped up in a disorientating mist, it was the devil's lips she longed to kiss.

An ode to the girl I used to know, who continued along with the devil in tow, until one day instead of a kiss.... it was Death's angel that touched her lips. A secret sorrow she left unknown,
a grave, she had wished, was her own.

An ode to a girl I used to know, who now lives so far from home, marching as one well oiled machine, hoping to pass through life, unseen. As a last stitch effort to stand apart, she only accomplished to break her parents hearts.

An ode to a girl I used to know, whose love was found in a secret best left alone. All I shall say is it shot her heart when her lover decided they were better apart.

An ode to a girl I used to know, whose families disappointment seemed to grow. A failure at love and life and smarts, trying to mend a shattered families heart.

An ode to a girl I used to know, who played Russian Roulette and lived to feel the survival guilt flow. She was the one who dared to live, after shooting so many in the heart again and again.

An ode to a girl I used to know, whose overdose seemed awfully close. Though tempting seemed, the pills may be, she continued on, with the weight of her life buckling her knees.

An ode to a girl I used to know, whose siblings left behind in the blow. And as her wounds smarted and her cuts began to sting, she gave her siblings the last gift she could bring. A freedom from her world of fear, a sacrifice to remain behind, here.

An ode to a girl I used to know, who was kicked out of her very home. Whom pain and sadness have tormented and torn apart, leaving her unsure if she still had a heart.

An ode to a girl I used to know, who walked this world all alone, who bore the scars that marred her skin, as she vowed to never, herself, love again.

An ode to a girl I know, who looks in the mirror, as if the reflection is not her own. All sunken eyes and cracking fears she lives and breaths but is no longer here. But a husk she remains, haunting her very own marred skin, wondering what it would be like to feel again...

An ode to a girl I have yet to know, who's future once shined brighter than any I have come to find, I know, because that future was once mine. now it is drifting, balanced by a drop of the hat, a slice of the knife, where nothing is planned or precise. All that she has is the hope of her fate, that maybe, some day, she will be free of her self inflicted chains of hate and fly free of this place, a chance to change her future, her fate.
You
I love you.
You, who has bared sorrow unseen,
I love you.
You, who are facing your demons
whether it be alone or with an army,
I love you.
You, who are mocked and taunted,
I love you.
You, who looks in the mirror,
haunted by the reflection,
I love you.
You, who seem to own the world,
I love you.
You, who drink the acid they feed you,
I love you.
You, who roll with the blows life throws at you,
I love you.
You, who come home unloved and abused,
I love you.
You, who cant bare to eat, the food, it mocks you,
I love you.
You, with buckled knees and clenched fists
as you hold the weight of the world,
a weight that was never yours to bare alone,
I love you.
You, who has nothing but a pillow to cry on,
I love you.
You, who has suffered the pain of love,
I love you.
You, with a body count of victims,
stolen from you through accidents or suicides,
I love you.
You, with the guilt of survival,
I love you.
You, who wears your long sleeves and heavy makeup
to cover the bruises and scars,
I love you.
You, with the parents that wont listen,
wont care,
I love you.
You, who thinks no one would miss you
no one would care,
I love you.
You, who clings to your xacto blades
or your pill bottles or your lighters,
I love you.
You, who have none but the moon to bare witness,
I love you.
You, who treads carefully on the edge
just waiting for that one person
to either push you over
or save you,
I love you.
You, with all your pain,
all your happiness,
all your lies,
all your scars,
all of you,
I have been you,
I AM you.
and still,
I Love You.
and if i can love you,
then so can you.
They say that love is beautiful.
That when it consumes you,
You feel alive.
They say that love is wonderful.
That when you find it,
You will never let it go.
They say that love is painful.
That misplaced love will
Burn you to the core.
Well I say that that sounds awfully boring,
And I think love is something more.
I say that love is a storm.
All rapid heart beats
And tangled wet hair.
Its the taste of lightning
And the feel of fire.
Its the burning skin
And huge grin.
It is the feeling of being ALIVE.
I say that love is a game of Russian Roulette.
Its giving some one a loaded gun
And hoping to God
That they don't pull the trigger.
Its sweating palms
And fragile trust, you hope, will grow strong
Its fear
Oh God you're scared.
Scared of the power they wield over you.
Its the freedom of a reckless love
Of wild desire
And chaotic choices.
Of crazy laughter
And aching tummies.
It is the feeling of being wild and FREE.
I say that love is rare, and fleeting.
Which is why you should never let it go.
Its nights under the stars
With only the moon to bare witness.
Its days under the deep blue sky
Where you burn brighter than the sun.
Its snow falling
And breath showing.
Its the feeling of your arms.
A desperation to cling to you.
And the naive hope
That we will last.
Its the feeling of forever.
Love is YOU.
this life is a long winding road,
and what a dull one it'd be
if I had to tread it alone....
we are the lost souls,
wandering this lonely world,
searching for each other,
for the place where our dreams
collide with reality.
we are the dreamers,
daring to look to the sky
knowing in our veins
we are destined to fly.
we are born of storm and wind and fire.
created from chaos we are
meant to rattle the stars
we will bow to no one
apologize for nothing
and answer to none
save for the pounding
of our wild hearts.
carved from diamond
we are unbreakable,
with the taste of forever on our tongues
we burn so bright that the sun grows envious  
we will never be chained,
refuse to be contained
and may the gods help those
who dare to tie us down
for you cannot tame
that which is wild and free,
therefore you will never tame me.
Next page