I feel like I don't belong here.
I can't place it--
Maybe too pure,
Maybe too evil,
Maybe too ill.
Its hard to say
When every word flung
Wildly around is a
Contradiction.
Too sensitive,
Too changeable.
The balance causes so
Much cognitive dissonance,
And the more I approach my heart,
The more it alludes me on the horizon.
Colorless,
These words ignite a
Flame
Stronger than any pigment.
I am worthless.
I am a treasure.
I am worthy.
I am pitiful.
I am beautiful.
I am a fool.
I am genius.
I am every word they say to me,
Yet I feel like
I am none.
Their icy words spoken with
Frozen hearts
Set my teeth chattering.

Nothing can protect me from this
Impeding cold.
The energy is inexhaustible.
Their ranks are numberless.
The fight goes on,
Teaching me the person I am
Is ought not to be.
Destroy the anguish
Mistaken as beauty.
They take my heart from me--
Brutally beating the bruises,
Formulaically tearing the
Gashes open with silver knives,
A gray harder than the
Silver of the moon--
Harder than the silver of my heart.
I am bruised,
Broken,
Wanting to be gone.
And they laugh at my pain.
They don't believe me when I say
I have nothing to live for.
All I need to do is to
Live up to the low bar they set,
But that's never good enough.
The words bleed out of me,
Yet they remain unsaid.
They would taunt more
If they knew their wickedness.
Sleep saves me from this endless cycle of
Torture.
Engulfed by
Vivid of imaginations of who I am,
I forget for a time
What they told me.
Meet me in this innocent state of existence,
Escaped from the pain.
I wish I knew how to
Avoid their toxic remedies
And the poisonous reminders
That they own me,
And will decide who I am.

But poets tend to exaggerate:
Tell me how it really is.

Black butterfly,
You fly the same,
Gracefully with wings that flutter with
Such beauty,
Misunderstood,
As a dark creature with no purpose,
But with wings and metamorphosis,
What is it still?
A butterfly,
It may be dark , lost, shut out,
But its beauty is still there.
Absorbing the rainbows of others in its own wings,
Fly away pretty butterfly,
To another place where you will be judged.

Unlike most people I know who make friends everywhere they go;
I have trouble interacting with others.
It took me all long time to make friends,
sure people would talk to me but
I guess they’d got bored
cause they never tried speaking to me again.
I try to make friends once and a while,
but sometimes we have nothing in common
so I stop interacting with them.  
Either way I’m going to have to start to learn
how to make friends,
I can’t be a loner forever.
Or can I?

Star

I want to be a star
Not to blend in with the others
I want to go far
Outshine the entire galaxy
Need to escape this bell jar
But it’s not easy to be happy.

I have become an outcast to your eyes
I do not want to be a foreigner in your past
I am writing a poem for your name
do not count me as a stranger

I don't want to be something, I want to be someone*
I found that written in my bio book
To be someone
to matter
isn't that what everyone wants?
no one wants to be something
an object
used
sadly I never feel like a someone
I feel like a wall most of the time
I'm there, supporting
but no one talks to a wall
no one cares about a wall
people lean on walls
and walls protect people from outside forces
but no one protects the wall
That's why I'm the wall.
I'm there for support, but no one's there to support me.
I guess I really resonate with the quote above, I don't want to be an object
I don't want to be used, I want to be someone not something....
I wonder when I'll no longer be a wall
when I'll be a person
alive

We write to reach out
to anyone
who is close enough
to read the words
that spill from our minds
Trying
without gain
for those that stop
to make them see
to make them stay
If only long enough to feel again
but as is the way of things
they linger for just a moment
then continue on their way
as the world stops for no one
and surely not for the troubled writer
lost in isolation
and ever searching
for a friend