Do it this way...
Go that way...
Say this thing...
And that thing...
Look this way...
Be some other way...
Don't do that...
Hear me Say...

It's not like I have
ideas of my own,
words of my own.
It's not like I don't know
how to live my life,
make my own choices,
be my own guide.

So, go ahead....
Over-talk me....
Tell me your ideas....
And your stories...
Push me aside...
Make me feel small...
I'm just a girl,
It won't matter at all.
Take away my movement...
Steal my responses too....
Oh, and don't you dare forget...
You are always right.
I'm really not as smart as you.

whispers
giggle twirl today
meet me in the hallway
as we gather our books and pens the normal way
as though this happens every day
you smile in the happy little way
that seems to hold me as i say
meet me in the hallway

we meet like love isn't here to stay
as we collide in the hallway
people smile and look away
at our rendez-vous in the hallway
your lips meet mine, we kiss, you stare into my eyes as we sway
meeting in the hallway

i waited for this all day
anxious fluttering belly fae
i walk out, the noise around me coming to a haze
as i smile at you, unknown, in the hallway
as you hold out your hand for me, life seems a little less gray
because i held you in the hallway

Frisky, little, swimmer
danceful wiggle dips

Yellowy, orange, shimmer
puckering fishy lips

Thoughtful, quiet, feller
never any yips  

Lonely, curious, critter  
Got any life tips?

The little bird flies out of the nest
Spreads her little wings  
Her dear mother was still asleep
Die not notice the bird release
The little bird flies higher
The little bird flies further
Into the free world, into the big wide world
The little bird wanted to know everything What her dear mother had concealed
But when, hit by a piece of lead,
the little bird her last look in the free world took
The little bird finally understood
Why her mother had kept her silence

I watch movies about
angry little boys
and angry little girls,
and I cry because I'm jealous
that their spirit
never tired them out
the way mine did to me,
so I've stopped bothering
being mad about the fact
that my anger remains
untouched by true reality.

She was little when it started,
The constant remarks made behind her back.
They never seemed to stop and one day she listened.

They pinched at her arms and called them fat,
So she started wearing sleeves,
even though her arms were perfect.

They pulled at her hair and called it *****,
So she started wearing beanies/ hats,
Even though her hair was gorgeous.

They called her conceited,
So she believed she was ugly,
even though She was a masterpiece.

They called her teeth yellow,
So she stopped smiling,
even though it was beautiful.

They called her annoying,
So she stopped talking,
even though her voice was lovely.


They told her she was useless,
So she stopped trying,
even though she meant the world to some people..

I know someone.
He lives for the minuscule things,

For the few minutes of sunrises, 

Down to the seconds of sunsets,

For the moments the wind blows the dandelions, 

For the tiny drops of rain to his shoulders,

All of those, he takes a shot.


“He’s weird,” 
I thought.

I asked him, 
“Why bother?”

I’ll never look at things the same way again.

"Love the little things. 

Love the minutes the sky holds a different color. 

Love the wind that lets you have a chance
to wish for a promising tomorrow. 

Love the rain for it cries for or with you. 

Because those things just give a simple notation,
You’re still alive.”

I feel in truth                                                                                                            In a little village and                                                                                               Not in a big world like ours ...                                                                              I can connect myself                                                                                               With anyone easily through                                                                                  The internet that helps me                                                                                    Write what I like anytime ...                                                                                  Although there are thousands of                                                                         Miles separate us ,but we're much closer ...                                                        ___________________­_

Once I caught a shooting star...

Yet, I found it far too heavy to hold...
Soonish, I lost its grip,
quickly I watched it slip...
ashamed, not one soul I told...

So, now these days, high's come in waves...
colorful rememories, from those sweet times of old...

Still, if I could; I would rewind back time and tame it as mine...  
Maybe it just might have reversed this black hole...

But, as I now know:
as it is -irresistibly hard-
to not try to catch a shooting star...
Perhaps, it's easier just to let it go...