I tried to write a happy poem.
I tried to throw myself into a pit of nostalgia to try and remember what happiness feels like.

All my poems are so sad, I don't know why I'm so sad.
My therapist tells me I have self esteem issues that effect everything else in my life.
My insecurities have ways been there, I had just never been able to put a name to the face until I brought a razor to my skin for the first time and the pain didn't feel wrong.
I didn't know what I was doing was wrong, I had no idea that it was wrong to be a  12 years old with arms covered in scars I call my battle wounds,
because no one wants to talk about the elephant in the room when it sounds like I've been to war and I'm only 17.
They won't poke and **** me with questions when it sounds like I was captured by the enemy and skinned for my beliefs.
I won't be questioned why I am not happy.
Why at 12 years old I was unhappy and why I am 17 years old now and I am still not happy.

I tried to write a happy poem.
I tried to write a happy poem by thinking 6 years back to before I knew I put the name to the face, before my insecurities were put on show for the world to see,
before I knew it was wrong to hate myself for what I wasn't and for who I wanted to be.
Until it finally hit me.
I've never been happy.
My hair was never as long as the ******* my left,
my body was never as skinny as the ******* my right.
My smile was never the shiniest nor were my eyes the brightest.
I tried to write a happy poem, but I can't write about a foreign entity, I can't write about something I have never had.
The concept of happiness is so alien that no wonder that when people are overcome with the feeing they feel out of this world.

Happiness is a luxury that I have never been given the privilege of.
Happiness is a luxury that I have never I will never been given the privilege of of.

I tried to write a happy poem,
I feel more empty inside than I've ever felt before.

I am not afraid to say,
I cry every night,
To make my pain go away,
And even though I try not to with all my might,
its a ritual I perform every day.

I am not afraid to tell you,
That I can be confusing,
Its not my fault I swear,
But I do try my best to explain,
But my emotions just go through one ear.

I am not afraid to tell you,
I have insecurities,
People tell me every day I am attractive but they see my clothes and my body.

I am not afraid to tell you,
That the world is a dangerous place,
Physically and mentally,
I know we can save it,
But we needn't be afraid.

                      Jonesy 2016©

I can't be so sure
about you
when you play on my insecurities
wielding them like weapons
I've discovered
that your laughter and smiles
are a happy facade
for something much darker
dare I delve inside?
I don't know what I might find
perhaps the truth about myself
*or maybe just a web of lies

I'm feeling like a king on the top of the world.
On top of the world in the front of my mind
in the moment,
I can no longer hold my composure I've gotta expose it.

Dispose of demons,
drown em
Ima blow it and him out of the water and greet him.
Shake hands, meet him  |        my other half

The doubtful voice that refuses to believe in a laugh,
success, or happiness,
but I'm a pacifist
so I don't fight.
I just ask him this question
maybe to shed some light
on a subject matter that keeps me sweaty at night:
"Who are you, if not me?"

Some sleezy squeaky sounding ***** that's who you are you ******* ****.

Sorry, I can no longer comprehend what you're coughing up.

I'm over you,
        and your under me.
I'm inside out, and you've uncovered me.
Colored me vividly into the person that arose from my better half.

Because I'm better than that.

I'm better than doubt,
better than pity and running away from my problems

I'm better than tossing a lit cig in the middle of a Cali drought.

But I'm on fire, and I'm motivated.
This life, you and I we have co-created,
but no comprende when you tell me that I will not make it.
You ******* *****.
You're mine now, and I'm rich.
Full of fulfillment, and happiness.

So goodbye.
Goodbye, my other half. Demonic piece of trash.

You're gone and when it comes to the last man standing,
                 yes I'm that.

I collect all my miseries,
I tuck them in my pocket.
I fumble with my memories,
Toss them in my heart and lock it.

I count all my impurities,
I label them and jar them.
I hide my insecurities,
Pretend like no one saw them.


I'll brandish all my miseries,
I'll wear them like a locket.
I'll make peace with my memories,
I'll free them from the closet.

I'll forsake my impurities,
I'll feather them and tar them.
I'll fight my insecurities,
Pull out my faith and spar them.


Hope is not free;
It comes to those in need.
And with a violent speed,
I hope it comes to me...

Society was the cell
Self doubt was the lock
My thoughts were the chains
My insecurities were the steel door
And confidence was the key
-EC

get out of your head
your crooked teeth are precious pearls
the height you own will soon fade
color doesn't need to be the same
stop staring at the scale
waiting for numbers to change

keep a firm grasp on your imagination
let your mind paint faces in the trees
listen to voices that get caught in the wind
feel every droplet that kisses your skin
dance in the sun even on a cloudy day  

listen closely to your grandparents
for they will depart soon
dance to the sound he taps on the piano
never skip a chance to let her kiss you
tell them "I love you," mean it always
say "I love you"
before they forget
before it's too late

remember your determination can carry you over oceans
so don't fear the puddles ahead