We are critical.

We find flaws in
everything we see
because nobody
wants to write
about perfection,
even though sometimes
we wish we could just stay
staring into that
unblemished surface.

2. We are never satisfied.

We live our lives upon
mountains of
scrunched up
bits of refill and
ideas we gave up
trying to
express.

3. We never forget.

We write words about
eye contact made
three months ago
that we replay over
and over in our minds
even though it
stopped
being relevant.

4. We are fickle.**

Our emotions flash
from one
to the other
like strobe lighting that
disorientates us
until we feel as if
the world
will never be still.

5. We are exposed.

We don't know how
to keep our feelings
to ourselves so
we'll write them
down for
you to find
'accidentally'.

6. We are vulnerable.

We wear our
hearts on our sleeves
and won't lift a
muscle to fight back
if somebody tries
to break it
because we thrive
from the pain.

7. We will never stop.

We will never stop
feeling and
we will never stop
hurting,
we will never stop
breaking and
bleeding and
loving
even though the cycle
is endless
and we know what's
coming next.


We are addicted
to agony,
but we agonise
for the art.

I'm not a typical teenager
I don't facebook things
Or post my life to the world
I don't tweet
Or Twitter
Or all the other
Networks
I don't instagram
In fact
I don't like pictures
If me. I hide from the camera
Hoping no one will
Click the photo button
I don't party
Or stay out late
I sit at home
Watching TV
Or better yet
Cuddling up with a good book
I don't waltz around
In revealing clothes
Hoping for a boyfriend
I don't act all bubbly
I cry and worry
I don't worry about boys
And dates
I worry about depression
And cutting and if my
Friends are really fine

I don't doodle or draw names on a binder
I write poetry on a site called helo poetry
And the only thing that upsets me
About that, is that I didn't find it sooner

I'm tired,
and she's beautiful.

Part of me is half awake in this world
Eyes wandering the classrooms and halls
My mind is hardly active in this world
And then, part of me roams my memory
Half of me is off trekking smoky mountains
I'm riding a ski lift up Mt Werner, snow.
It's autumn here in the Smokies, crisp
The leaves are vibrant reds and yellows
And a mountain stream trickles by
My feet go numb in the icy stream,
Here is where I pop off my skis to listen
To the sweet sound of alpine fir trees
Here is feeding the squirrels in Yosemite
And hiking to a water fall, testing my faith
Cramming snow into my mouth,
Followed by hot chocolate at a cabin
Here is Appalachian Summers and picnics
And Rocky Mountain Winters and snow
Or slipping under the turquoise blanket
And exploring underwater caves in Hawaii
Memories are so dear, and always reappear
When everything around me is monotonous
I let myself rediscover what was once mine
And I don't even have to close my eyes
To be part of this beautiful world