i am the colored leaves cascading from autumn trees onto concrete
where you don't know below greens used to grow.

i am the pupil of your eye standing before a judges' sentence
without knowing the consensus missed evidence.

i am the rain drop that falls on your forehead
forgetting umbrellas don't matter
until they do.

Look, how darling!

Angels float above her bed.

Look closer though, darling?

Look at all that's in her head.



Look, how sweet!

Her eyes shine like stars.

Look closer though, sweet?

Look at her invisible scars.



Look, how precious!
Her actions are so kind.

Look closer though, precious?

Look at the pain in her mind.



Look, how cute,

She is just so innocent.

Look closer though, cute?

Look at who's paid rent.



Look, how adorable!

Her garden always grows.

Looker closer though, adorable?

Look at how much she knows.

On the surface:
Porcelain skin,
lightly freckled face.
Long auburn hair.
Brown and green flecked eyes.
5'9, thick thighs, tight waist.
This is the girl you fell in love with.
The girl in front of you.
Just what you can see and feel and hold.
You did not fall in love with what is underlying.
Numb to most, angry with others.
Careful.. Never one to rush things.
A fan of perspectives.
An interest in different characteristics.
Curious about every little thing.
Inquisitive, kind.
A raging internalization of anger and frustration
and sadness.
Foundation ready to give out but she wont let it.
She patches up each new crack.
Lost her mind long ago
but never faltering her grip on reality.
It's tattooed on her.
She can't escape the harsh truths.
One being, people only see the surfaces.
Never digging even the slightest.
She's seen many lives lost before it was their time.
She's given up long ago.
Taught herself;
No one can be saved if they wont help themselves first.
Removed herself from
they who claw at the ankles
of people to be dragged down alongside them.
She holds her head up high when she feels herself sinking.
All alone, right beside you.
Always there when she's needed.
Never to have anyone hold her hand
or tell her she's strong.
She doesn't need to be told.
She knows that to survive what she has,
she must be anything but weak.
She will laugh in the face of the antagonist,
smile and ask how their day was, truly curious.
But you only see the surface.
She's just a pretty face.

I believe somehow, in some way
We all go through an
Identity Crisis.

Whether it be
Deciding who we want to be
What jobs we want to take
Deciding
Who we really are inside
We question ourselves.

I know, because I have.
I questioned myself an innumerable
Amount of times.
And somehow I still can't
Make up my mind about it.

But don't worry.
I will arrive at an answer soon.
And I hope
You will too.

Cherry, a Cherry!
We all know it's a berry!
Why call it a fruit?

You say
you want
someone to
understand
you.
To get you
on a deeper
level
and really
connect
with you...
Then why do
you push
every
willing
person
away?
-JRM

Poetry is the voice chattering in my head...
Never lets up... It is the voice for when I'm afraid...
Conjured up from deep looping thoughts...
Vented out through written words when the voice could not.
Necessity forged by the mind and heart.
Feelings and emotions that the core wouldn't carelessly discard.
Poetry is an outlet of sorts, tentatively I can afford.
In this realm, the pen be my sword.
Poetry is everything... Beauty spanning multiple universes...
All we do is try to have it harnessed and channelled into individual artful verses...


An outlet, escape, my hole in the wall,
where I can hide from the Hell in my heart.
You're learning to walk, I'm just trying to crawl
beneath the flak; as it once tore me apart.
I've got my demons, how about you?
Faceless legions strung through my soul;
with ink and paper, they often bleed through
From lines and verses, I regain some control.
So, if you're asking me what poetry means
I won't say much, but I'll show you my scars.
Words and rhymes slash stitches and seams,
but in my unraveling, I see shooting stars.


My escape from the world
A distraction from myself
Instead of a mark on my body
I place a mark upon paper
I watch the ink flow from the pen
Happy that it's black
And not red
It bleeds into the crinkled paper
Mapping out the story
The story of my life so far
I don't think
I just write
Emptying my mind
My messed up mind
But the mess will never truly be gone
Just temporary relief
This is my relief


Poetry doesn't mean something,
Poetry is telling somebody who knows the truth, a lie and making them believe you anyways.


The air I breathe, the life I lead, everything I believe, poetry
The truest, permanent written form, at its finest
Even if it doesn't rhyme, every word is still the dearest
It's my relief from anxiety, my calm when I'm panicking
It's a sight for sore eyes when I wake up with a hangover and a headache
The only way I can express myself, show my deepest heartache
The only happiness I have when I'm depressed, my only friend when I'm lonely
My poetry and yours, day in and day out, is like oxygen to me
I can't breathe without poetry


A poet sees rivers where veins
run, caged birds where hearts
beat against ribs, stellar explo-
sions in place of emotion.
To be a poet means to breathe
through your eyes, to find life
in the weeds suffocating your
lungs, to build an ocean
of metaphors and memories,
never knowing which is which.


Poetry is art in itself
It is our passion that is slowly dying out throughout humanity
Because humanity is slowly forgetting what makes us human
What we survive on and die for everyday
But not us poets...
Our poetry is the chain to what we are
What we fought for all these years
What we die for trying to protect
For poetry is our mortality
Poetry is our life.

I keep digging and digging and digging,
     trying to dig myself out of this hole
But it seems everything is collapsing around me
      burying me with my soul.
      This small shovel
  just doesn't seem to be enough,
     No one thought to tell me
         how life could be this rough
Now,
    I'm just getting deeper and deeper
        and deeper
    with my unwanted thoughts
This shall be my grave,
        but don't put any roses on top,
      I prefer **forget-me-nots

LOVE
       is
         Like
A
       W
          A
             T
           E
         R
       F
         A
            L
          L

       The longer
          It is
      The harder
         It crashes

      The stronger
         It is
            The
               Faster it
          F
            A
          L
             L
                 S

        The *deeper
          It is
            The *longer
        It takes
             To
            *Get
          Out