Don't tell me to get of my phone and play hopscotch in the wilting paddy fields across the house
the same paddy field that decorated the chest of every newspaper last Thursday, written across the title  in bold; 6 year old girl strangled to death

don't tell me to get off my couch and try make some friends
the same friends that got my neighbour's daughter gangraped at her sixteenth birthday party

don't tell me to only fall in love with a person of the opposite gender,
not after hearing the screams of the lady across these cracked walls, whom as usual would make excuses to cover up the reasons behind the galaxy toned punch scars across her no longer smooth skin, a result of being beaten up by her drunk husband each night

don't tell me writing isn't going to get me anywhere, that only science will, not after you've seen me bleed across these pages trying to make you understand my passion and love for writing & trust me when I say these numbers & stupid scientific terms will never be able to diffuse into my numb skull the way these lovely letters  have

don't tell me that the numbers written on one piece of paper that is graded by a person who probably had a million and one reasons to make me fail, defines  my intelligence, not after looking at that girl from high school who failed  her maths & ended up becoming a world renowned poet

don't tell me that it's right to hate a person because they were born a shade darker than I am, not after the person who saved my life that summer night I was sprawled across the bathroom floor, overdosed on drugs, was 'fifteen shades darker' than me

don't tell me that I don't have a right to stand up to you because I'm younger than you, not after a 50 year old man ***** his 12 year old student; in no way does your age define your maturity

and dear generation X & Y,

don't tell me what is wrong and right, for I am old enough to face the consequences of my actions, for there is no way I will learn without making mistakes,

and dear generation  X & Y,


we'll show you how life should be lived.

Thank you, sit down.

cant tell if im crying cause im sad or this wine taste like ***
ive talked myself out of calling you all day
i figured you might want some time
i need the space

Give me fire
Give me desire
Give me passion
Give me action
Give me love
Give me all
Give me oooh
Give me you

I ran wild, I didn't hide my emotions, I screamed them and threw them everywhere. If I wanted to do something, I sprinted towards it. I sang my songs so loud and made mix cds and playlists that were so bomb I still have them and listen to them and find comfort in them. I said the words I wanted to say, I fell in love with my own slang and quotes from books and movies and I swore I'd get them tattooed on me. I painted for hours and I sketched the monsters out of my mind. It's funny that I hated me then. They told me I was crazy, I was reckless, I made no sense and I would someday settle down.

I did. I still have urges to paint and I still listen to music like it saved my life, 'cause it did. But I can't get upset and drive off in my ****** car and return 6 days later and tell people they were overreacting for worrying. I'd lose my job and I'd feel bad for making them worry. I guess I'm a grown up now.

The point is, go crazy while you can. I'm not done with my crazy, not by a long shot. I'm leaning on the street sign "20s" and I can't see the end of the road, it's just a horizon of drunken nights and learning experiences and trips all over the country and love so hot you wanna pass out.

"don't let them tell you what to do, how to feel"
No. They are going to tell you, and you can't stop them. It is okay to pretend to listen while you fully know you're gonna do things your own **** way. It's also okay to scream at them to mind their business. It's okay to scream and run and follow your crazy heart, you may never feel it so full of passion again.

Today, is the day.
The day that I tell you
How I really feel.
Used to love you so,
But it might be time
To let you go
For you see,
We have different ambitions
And we may be soul mates,
But alas, we have come together
At the wrong time.

sit on the bus
shiver in pain
don't know where to go
needed out of the rain

shaky knees
squealing brakes
doors open wide
welcome the embrace

You and Me,
We could fit perhaps,
If you tried and cared,
And I didn't care too much.
But of course you won't try or care,
And I will spend my nights pining over someone
Who isn't even mine,
And we will do this tango,
Of similar thoughts for each other,
Without ever acting upon them.

I don't want to waste my time on
Someone who won't be constant
But here I am
Here I am
Still wasting all my time on you.