For the first time, I was happy.

Overflowing with joy your heart fought for mine when there were demons I could no longer destroy. You saved me even though you too were just another little boy.

For the first time I could see the light.

You showed ma a future, and I was in it! It was so bright. And the things I wanted, the things I needed. they weren't as far out of sight.

For the first time I was curious.

You made me wonder when I no longer saw adventure in this life, you made me wonder even when all my pleasure turned to strife.

Your smile made me warm, the heat in my stomach was enough to deteriorate any of my crooked thoughts that tried to reform. Your smile made me able to stand up to any threatening storm, unashamed of anything in me that wasn't uniform

But your words made me flee.


For the 100th time I ran.

You made me feel things I've always wanted to feel.
You made me see things that I never knew I wanted to see.
You made me wonder things I wish I could still wonder.
You made me love someone I didn't know I was capable of loving

and you made me flee from the only thing I have ever been able to explain.

I’m a castaway enjoying the rough winter seas
on the carrack of a late age ship.
Flotsam, flotsam, weighing back to a place
full of roiling stomachs and stubborn jaws.

Of waiting to fight and curling up under
a tale of adventure to escape the hurling words,
walking out to hide under stark snowy logs
fallen over, trespassing in frustration of
collected angers.

Pockmarked roads and rushed breath,
screaming in my head, lips ******* shut
wishing for the Shire to land
on my doorstep.

Stalking away, leaving behind,
My, maybe one time I’ll get there,
to rolling hills and bespoken not
against my nature.

“im human too,”
and my mother looks confused.

The difference between my reality and yours is that
Yours is real
Mine is just mostly real

You see things as they are
As they should be
But my reality has an extra layer to it
Like taking regular ice cream and adding sprinkles
Sprinkles of imagination on a regular world

Reality is I'm sick

Shopping list:

- Milk
- Eggs
- Oranges
- Pie crust
- A poem
- Strawberries
- Pencils
- A story
- Cereal
- Soup
- A way to express
- A need to feel
- Someone to impress
- Conflict to heal
- For people to see
- How this world can ****
- A place to be free
- To not feel this chill
- That life leaves behind
- This battle uphill
- Of not being blind
- And staying together
- In a time of hurt
- To fight off this weather
- And to wipe off this dirt
- Yogurt

I am quiet when everyone’s loud
all I want is to speak over the crowd

I am small in a world that’s incredibly tall
wanting to be something great and grand like all

I am weak while the world around me is strong
it’s hard to feel like I really do belong

I am different in ways I can’t yet describe
everyone’s the same as I live umong my own tribe

everyone can fly into the air with a leap
as I am stuck on the ground

I am the black sheep.

i'm different
they say
unknown, foreign, alienated, that's how i feel to them

those people, them, they, all of those whos eyes judge throughly without remorse,
i search for another,
                                   just
                                          like
                                                  me

The only thing you understand is...

is that I have talent
that i'm good at drawing
But you say

you say to use it in a different way
Well what is different to you
because I sure don't know

You don't understand why I draw
but here is the thing
I don't see my drawings as dark
as negative
as  gruesome

I see it as apart of me
something that I cannot do

You said:
  rip out the negative

I heard:
tear yourself apart

It may seem silly
"it's just a journal"
But my "it's just a" journal
is so much more

I love it