I don't think.
I never do.
I dive in head-first,
without knowing
the depth of the water.
Without having a clue.
I jump in without
a single thought.
Only when the
shock of the cold
water ***** the air
from my lungs,
do I realize the
damage that
could be done.
I cannonball into
the deepest end.
And it is there,
that split second
in mid-air,
when I decide
whether I'll
sink or swim.

Ribbons and bandanas
go hand in hand.
Whenever I see one,
the grief that I've
learned to control
finds a way back in.
They remind me of what
bravery and true fear
really look  like.
They remind me of
the sound of buzzing
hair clippers.
And the quiet sobs
from both of us as
our tears fell to the floor,
just like your hair,
that you loved so much.
They remind me of that terrible
oncologist office, that always
smelled like chemicals.
Where I sat with you
as we waited to hear:
" The doctor will see you now."
They remind me of the goodbye,
that hurts me to this day;
When your fight ended,
and the angels took you away.
Whenever I see a ribbon or bandana,
I'm reminded of you.
Life isn't fair, but you were a fighter
all the way through.

She still remembers the day,
That her world collapsed around her,
With a big crash.

However,
Even a stronger memory than that:
She remembers the day,
That she looked at the rubble,
Left from the life she once lived,
And decided it was time,
To start over again.
And this is where her journey began.

She picked her heart up from the wreckage,
And sewed it back into place.
Now here she stands,
Fearless today.

Oh,
But the way
You make butterflies swarm
In my stomach,
And my heart
Pound like a bass drum,
That makes words
Tumble from my mouth,
After diving
Off of my tongue,
In such a strange way,
Like no one before
Has ever done.

My mind works like a dead engine.
Over and over again it turns.

It  hurts me,
Just a little more each time.
For no reason at all.

Sometimes I just wish,
The **** thing would start running,
Or just completely stall.

Little Ms. Perfect sat inside,
With her nose in books,
Watching her GPA grow.

Ignoring the world outside,
Buzzing with life,
Just below her window.

It didn't interest her,
She had a plan to stick to,
A way through the life that she knew.

Until the day that little Ms. Perfect,
Realized life isn't perfect,
And away those plans went.

Now when she looks at her days,
Without regret,
She says they're days well spent.

I am chaos in its most beautiful form.
I have a blizzard storming through my brain,
And a fire in my heart.
My thoughts and desires alone sometimes tear me apart.
For they clash, collide, and conflict with each other,
Leaving me confused on which way to go.