1 Screaming at all hours, sleep is my enemy. My greatest fear is loud sounds and bright lights.
2 Daddy is a tall giant and the smartest man in the whole wide world, mommy is the best mommy ever. Also, touching the fire on birthday candles is not allowed. Or singing at the table. Or watching scary commercials because mommy is tired of me waking her up at 3AM with my nightmares about the big hungry man in the commercial. My greatest fear is being alone in the dark.
3 I’m still too young to know real hurting, I’m unscarred and the greatest tragedy I’ve experienced is a skinned knee and having my favorite stuffed animal taken from me overnight for bad behaviour. My greatest fear is the day I get married and have to live away from my parents.
4 I’m too short to see myself in the bathroom mirror, the counter is in the way. My greatest fear is the monsters under my bed.
5 I have a birthday party and invite every person I know because I’m friends with everyone. My greatest fear is being in trouble with my teacher for talking in class.
6 I’m a big girl now, I can help mommy with dinner…by tasting her ingredients. I don’t understand why those people on the show daddy watches called The News **** each other. Why does anybody hate anyone? Why are grownups crying? Big girls don’t cry. My greatest fear is quicksand, but fortunately I have multiple plans on how to escape quicksand.  
7 Daddy is teaching me how to ride a bike without training wheels and it is scary and I’ve fallen off alot. He told me he wouldn’t let go! I can’t believe he lied to me! I cry and cry but look! Look, I’m doing it mommy! Look! CRASH. I’m starting to read big girl books more easily now. No pictures and only words isn’t as bad as I used to think. One day, I want to be a writer. My greatest fear is falling off my bike.
8 Boys are yucky, and not every girl is my friend anymore. It’s strange, the girls I used to play with have their own friends now. I’m not one of them anymore. A girl told me I was ugly and I felt this odd feeling in my chest like I was falling. Why did it hurt? The only things that are supposed to be able to hurt you are things you can see like knives (which I’m not allowed to use) or falling down, I thought. A girl tells me I am dumb. What a bad word to say, I’m NEVER allowed to say it. It is a mean and a bad word. When I grow up, I’ll never swear. I thought the bad guys were the only mean people in the world? I thought they wore black capes and lived in scary glowing castles like in the movies. The pretty girls in my class who look like princesses are saying things to each other and me that sound like the bad guy’s line in a movie? Why is this happening? I wish on the star every night like princesses do for the girls to stop hurting each other with their words. My greatest fear is that my wish won’t come true.
9 Did you know that fairy tales aren’t real? Did you know that it matters how your hair looks and where you buy your clothes and how many friends you have? Did you know other people care about what you have for lunch? Apparently, those things are true. I don’t like everyone anymore and not everyone likes me. People say some things to me that hurt my feelings and I make someone else cry because I said something just as mean back because I was angry. I didn’t mean to hurt them even though they hurt me. I do things I regret. Am I a bad guy now too? My greatest fear is of becoming a bad guy.
10 I am not a little girl anymore. Girls are turning on girls. Boys are liking girls. Not me of course, but other girls. Suddenly, everyone thinks they are a teenager. Someone calls me fat. Someone says I’m ugly. Someone says I’m dumb. Someone says I’m weird. I like a boy, but he could never like me. Less and less friends, life is growing uglier and far, far colder. Quicksand did not turn out to be as big a problem as I imagined when I was little. Suddenly, I grow up far faster than I should, because if I don’t, I’ll spend way too much time crying. The boys are playing a game at lunchtime, who would you marry if you had to marry someone in the class. One of the boys says he’d: “pick someone stupid like: My name.” Why did my name finish his sentence? “Then I’d shoot her in her sleep after we were married.” He finds out I heard what he said. He tries to talk to me, to apologize but I don’t want to speak to him. I refuse to cry over this. I’m not a baby. But it secretly hurts a lot. I never speak to him ever again. Not a word the whole year, or the next or ever. My greatest fear is being unwanted. And I am.
11 Boys are mean and girls are heartless and cruel. Girls hate me, I hate girls. I hate myself, I hate school, I hate hating everything. I feel worthless, why is everybody else so pretty and perfect? I haven’t been invited to anyone except my best (and only) friend’s birthday party for 3 years. I get invited to a sleepover with girls who don’t like me and I don’t really like them but I don’t know them too well I just know their names and when they think I am asleep I hear them start to talk in-depth about why I am ugly. Scarred. Humilated. Scarred. Broken. Mostly scarred. Why am I so ugly and worthless and fat and stupid? My greatest fear is the monsters inside of my head.
12 New school, new friends, new life. So happy. So, so happy and free. Friends who actually care about me. Friends who heal me. Closer than friends, like sisters. Not alone anymore. My greatest fear is losing all that.
13 Everything is perfect, and beautiful and I am so happy I could cry. I laugh all day and love my life. Until May. Then it fall apart. Jealousy, lies, family problems at home, pasts collide, friends are fake and sisters forever fades into a broken promise. I hate my friend but God, I love her like a sister even though I loathe her so much. It hurts it hurts and I start to feel ugly again. I scar myself, I do terrible thing to my body and myself. I only have a few friends left, but now I know who is loyal, and who never was. My greatest fear is everything that is happening to me as my world crashes, crumbles and burns all around me.

Many years pass, but my mind, soul, and heart are unchanged. Though my age grows larger, I never grow past it all. I’m reliving it all over and over, I still hate myself. Chained to 13.

Please repost if you are trapped in the past too.
Comment! I love to read other people's interpretations and thoughts on my work!

Somewhere

Somehow

I can’t identify when
it changed.

I saw things differently,
my eyes no longer covered
by an opaque way
of thinking.

Sunshine brightened this world
with unimagined colors,
butterflies broke free,
songbirds warbled lovely tunes.

Amidst emerging beauty
words became
every day’s lifeblood;
I found my voice.

All around me,
there was change,
yet everything remained
the same.
For it was me
that changed.
Reborn, rewired.
My heart drummed
a brand new beat.

Driven by transformation,
I wrote. I write.
Adding a dash of color.
Singing harmony
to surrounding melodies.
I am changing.
I am writing.
I am a poet.

Do not try and ephixiate your mind on random cohesions.
Breathe.

Everthing is an abormal abnormality,
The thought of existance, such a chaotic verse of simplicity.

Exhale.

Open the gates of inguinity and forget what lies beneath you,
You are far better than your demons. The demons that seek to end all presence of creativity.

Let there be nothing but a powerful pound of the heart.

I am alive. I am the darkness inside the light.

These are the days of skies that drift
Down to hug the canopies and lap softly at the hills.

These are the days of rain that flies,
Droplets suspended in the air that burst as stolen kisses against passing cheeks.

These are the days of flaming trees,
Fire that courses through branches to turn leaves into flickering embers.

These are the days of stillness,
A world holding it's breath, quivering with each and every heart beat.

These are the days of lingering dusk,
Cloying so thickly it can be sliced with a cry.

These are the days.
Autumn's days.

My days.

It looks like we must say goodbye to the restless nights and the rebellion I grew so fond of.
I must gain a sense of composure and come to grips with what's ahead, I guess.
It's hard to move on after all that has happened.
It's hard to move on, at all.
So Summer, do you think of me when the nights turn cold and your brain wonders into the dark places of your mind?
Or am I tucked away somewhere far, never to come back around until next year?
Because I think about you all of the time.
About your warm embrace,
Your bright eyes,
And most importantly your smile.
But I smell change in the air, now,
And there's no reversing time.
I can sense you trying to stay.
You even cried today.
But Summer, it's time to move on.
So let's pack up our things,
Say our goodbyes,
And keep our memories on a shelf somewhere.
Let's let them collect dust,
Let our bicycles rust,
And pick up the pieces again
On a cold evening
When I miss your smell
Will you remember me?

She'd started watching 1950's informational videos.
You were accepted for being outside the box
And she was everything except in it.
Class president kids used to be reviled
Elections were exciting, polls came in,
And now... now what was it?
Something she should be ashamed of.
Because she cannot dance in a short skirt in front of a crowd
But instead because she plays the music
For the girls in the short skirts
Band uniforms like shells she can hide inside
Because while it's not something the other kids love,
It's what she loves.
Tennis dresses like skin without makeup
Student council shirts that finally fit,
That she feels like she can finally fill out
Unlike the jeans that she can't.
Golf jersey tossed aside, brushes and pencils picked up
Volunteer work piled in
Piling into the plays and new experiences
And acceleration, constant growing,
Growing out of shells that she used to love
And gaining skins that she loves even more
Looking back and seeing that the girls in short skirts
On the sidelines, on the gym floors,
Had not shed anything yet
Had not grown.
They were walking, she was running
Toward the end of high school, toward a goal,
To see how high in the sky they could get,
To see how high in confidence and compassion she could reach
They shed clothes, she shed skin and shells
They were permanent, fearing change
She was evolving, embracing it.