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.

Never did I imagine growing up,
And never in such a strange way,
I remember everyone I grew up with,
They remind me of a simpler state,
However they probably grew up too,
In their own possibly strange way,
And maybe in their hearts,
They hum,
And wonder about,
How life goes on!

Like a newly formed dandelion, it is beautiful.
Entwined with the glistening rays of the sun.
Such youth, such aspiration, you stand tall and strong.
Though when an unexpected gust takes presence, you fall apart.

Your remains are scattered far and wide,
and they grow on their own.
You're seen, there, there, and there.
You're letting go.

You're re-growing. Into a stronger, more secure dandelion.

- High School Relationships?

Why do you torment me so?
I can't take anymore pain,
I've hit an all time low.
This game is driving me insane.

I'd like to slap you,
and show you all your wrongs.
I'd like to kiss you too,
for you've made my heart sing songs.

You give me butterflies.
I'd like to show you the truth,
but you're brain does nothing but give into lies.
Honestly to see this love takes no sleuth.

I've tried so hard,
but I've gotten nothing in return.
I feel like a ******,
Constantly wanting my own turn.

I wish only for you to be mine,
and me to be yours.
Instead you like the asinine,
who only want to have you on all fours.

My best cards have been laid,
but you treat them as if nothing,
for some reason I have stayed.
Still dreaming to be your something.

When I was young,
they called my Hurricane.
Because even my brother feared my wrath.
Because “so help me god,
if you touch me one more time”
Wasn't a threat he completed.
Because Barbie never seemed like fun,
And GI Joe kicked so much ***.
“Hurricane”
Because the boys in elementary school
got punched when they called me names
And the boys in high school
Got slapped or pinched or kicked or flipped
Off for trying to kiss me without permission.
They called me Hurricane
Because if there was chaos,
it was me.