Rivers of people
crowded the alleys of my mind.
Every thought of mine
had to go through them.
And they were relentless.
By the time it made through them,
it was not the same.
That beautiful new born thought
had turned into a old stranger.
I learned one thing
that I can never have a thought
or an action
that is truly my own.
And even when the building and the skies
of my mind decay,
the people in those alleys will live on.

Stars shining bright above you.
Snowflakes flying all around you.
The beautiful stillness,
The heavenly harmony of silence.
Your mittened hand dangles shielded from the cold,
Having once been exposed,
Never wanting to face the torture again.
Once the snow hits the dirt,
It will never be the same again,
Forever tainted by the unclean ground.
Once you step on the ****** snow,
It will never be pure again,
Forever changed by the footsteps
Of those who have harmed the innocence.
But when the snow melts, and was there
Ever any snow there to begin with?
Was there innocence, joy, laughter?
Or was it all swept in on a winter wind,
As temporary as the season itself,
And borne away just as quickly?
Is there anything to hurt, to harm?
To taint?

When we are mad

We have scars

When we are depressed

We have scars

When we are sad

We have scars

Get my point?

No matter how we feel

We will have scars

Maybe if we stop hiding

We might heal faster

Lets show the world our scars

And show how beautiful we are

Scars shouldn't define us

They improve us

It shows how we are different

Revealing may not be a bad thing

If we reveal our scars

They might understand

The pain

The fight

The feeling

Lets show the world our beautiful scars

today i wondered what i would be.
but my definition
is a multitude of faucets

faucets that are leaky
they drip
tiny splashes of knowledge

knowledge that i almost have
but not quite.

today i wondered why

why it’s so difficult to eat
in the mornings,
                   and afternoons,
                                       and nights.

and why my body is more beautiful when it is starved

and how come
the trees hold flowers i want to touch
but i can’t get myself to walk to the branches.

i know they will be wilted soon

because they bloomed
too early.
when winter pretended to be spring
but brought the coldness back too soon

sometimes i wonder why
on days like these
eye contact is like
replacing a lightbulb

because
i’d rather sit in darkness than
stand on the chair.

and i wonder
why i like to let my body chill
naked, on my bed after a hot shower
just to feel less numb

and if i get too cold,
then i found something to care about

to care about getting warm again

I'm the girl
Keeping secrets
Bottled up tight
The girl
With parents(dad)
Who yell day and night
The girl
Who's never been
Quite good enough
The girl
Crying inside
But acting all tough
You tell me sweet things
That I've never heard
Suddenly "beautiful"
Is more that just a word

We say that we are ugly
We say that we are fat
We're not
Learn no matter how you look
You're beautiful
No matter what you are
You are beautiful just the way you are
Stop putting yourself down
You are beautiful
With your scars
Your imperfections
Your everything
You're beautiful

I am a firm believer that beauty on the inside, is more important than beauty on the outside.
I don't just want to see your bare body, I want to see you bare your soul.
I don't just want to have ***, I want to make love.
I want you to feel comfortable and to talk to me about anything and everything.
I want us to feel safe in each others arms and forget about our worries.

I hope to make you feel confident about your own insecurities.
To show you how special I think you truly are.
I want our hearts to race when we see each other and our eyes to sparkle.
I want you to look into my eyes, so you can see how much I love you.
Am I asking too much, or is that exactly what love should feel like?

When we go through rough waters, I want us to be each others anchor.
Knowing that our love and support for each other, can get us through anything.
You may be beautiful on the outside, but it's the compassion in your heart and the beauty in your soul, that makes me want to spend my life with you.

she is a charcoal sketch.
she is dark,
jagged at the edges, rough.
she is only a first draft--
soon the pencil marks will be erased
and the best is yet to come.
not only is she a watercolor painting--
pastels bleeding together until
you can't find where
each emotion stops and starts--
but also the dark Sharpie lines
etched in arcs on said painting,
a beautiful composition of
daydream and nightmare.
she is cracked clay.
she crumbles easily, powder
breaking off from her sculpture
in such a way that
no amount of glue will ever reattach.
she may be broken and
cracked in all the wrong places but
sometimes imperfections add beauty
to an otherwise ordinary masterpiece.