mom can you see the woman I've become,
hair as white as elsa's,
voice more passionate than a hug
but mother I'm sorry for my mistakes, my misdemeanors
my unholy ****, scraped off by the windshield much like the bugs.
scraping off my dead skin cells, my tired flesh, my small love
im sorry for cursing the ground that you walked.
im sorry for exasperating your love and good thoughts,
im sorry for being too strung out to give a **** what you thought
but now I hope you see, that i am all you thought I could be
that I am more than my scars, my lost loves, and my horrors
I am seventeen years old but my heart is much harder
because I have seen pain spread greater than a fire
I have seen heartache being men to their knees,
and painful memories spread like disease
my mother I'm inhibited
by self crippling doubt,
I am breathing yes,
but not quite living now.
I pull phony smiles from my lips to my eyes,
I combat the night with sparkling tears in my eyes.
you see my mother I am seventeen years old,
with a trauma like brain, dying, and cold
I might be seventeen but my weakness is ancient,
my lips are the vessels, words carried out through the nations
my dearest mother I love you so, and I am very sorry for the days my weaknesses show.

You were like a breath of fresh air
Fluttering through my clothes
But you´d disappear
When I needed you the most
Suddenly so close touching my skin
But my heart would get so cold
When I let you in

You were like a breath of fresh air
Fluttering through my veins
But you´d disappear
and nothing good remains
Wandering through the street
Without you I couldn't breathe
I´d search for you stumbling uphill
But the world remained still

You were like a breath of fresh air
So powerful and strong
With you rippling through my hair
I felt like I belonged
You left me fragile and bare
When you faded and died down
You were a breath of despair
When I think about it now

Wild strawberries
Tediously small,
Hiding among the tall pink flowers
And shy butterflies,
Wink and flash sweet 'eat me' red
Under dappled flower shadows,
They burst on your tongue
Tasting like sunshine and honey lemon
Washing like a cool blue lake
In muggy air,
Leaving childish joy
And baby smiles
Then the memory of sweetness to linger,
Until you paw through the hot leaves
And tall pink flowers
And find another, tediously small,
And hold it in your eager fingers
Soft, and brighter than rubies
With juice fresh and sweet
Running down your chin and your
Scarlet fingers

don't spend time talking about insane nonsense
that have no worth , like unsalted salt
that hold  no use but  to be trampled on and lost  
  mouths speak sentences...
....stop think , collaborate thoughts
speak words of gold that cannot be bought
speak life to those who seem dim and distraught
use words to build someone up when others may not

speak less , don't loss your head
don't give in to insane mumble
for they only profit negativity
and just not good for you piece of mind and clarity  
treat words like swords or beautiful dances
or like skillfully woven fabric or sweet romances

resurrect the words that live in old scrolls
that collect dust , oh words of gold
and wrap them on your finger for memories collecting
keep them close to your heart forever perfecting

fresh juice of ripe fruit
soothes the young tongue's
craving for cold victory

it slithers down the throat
'tis a a waterfall, a spring;
vision returns to foggy eyes,
deathening ears reawake;
satisfaction tastes so good:
it tastes of livelihood