Remember, my dear,
Even the sunshine will return to its darkness

i want to write something people can resonate with.
for most of my life, i spent hours in book that i cried with or laughed to.
but now it is my turn.
i want to write for the ones with swollen hearts that are full of love,
i want to write something for the kids who were never enough,
for those spend hours sitting in the shower because the water frowns out the sounds of their tears,
i want to write something for the ones who have spent nights upon nights dreaming of ways to leave this world,
i want to write something for those finding bliss in baggies and hope in a pill
for the children who have found companionship in literary hero’s,
for the ones who twist words and rhymes,
the ones who for countless hours have manipulated vowel sounds and consonant endings.
i want to write for the ones who still believe in the magic of pixie dust,
for the ones who’s pixie dust only lives in hard bound books and in aisles of forgotten book stores.
i want to write something for those who appreciate the weird and find comfort in the uncommon.
i want to write for those fighting every day for that loaf of bread in the grocery store.
i want to write something people can resonate with.
because i’ve been there
so here it is,
here’s to you.

if you’ve seen him.
you’d know,
nothing gold can stay
and this is why,
i can’t wait for the day,
where you turn foe
so i can love you,
endlessly

you only like girls
who are
fearless
but still
look to you
for protection.

you only like girls
with no
insecurities
yet you
hate it
when she
stands up
for herself.

you only like girls
with perfect hair
and a perfect face
without acne
or wrinkles
even without
any makeup.

you only like girls
that don't
seem to
exist.

Please stop calling me nice.
I am not nice.
I will not be contained to a single word,
When my bones are built from metaphors
And my lips leak similes.
I am a fireball of emotion, splitting trees and men in two with my passion for my art.
I am a slurry of terror, creeping up on you at night that curls your toes right before you fall asleep.
I am not nice, I am anything but
I am alive with the summer heat that burns in my eyes and the sunlight that flows through my ribcage.
I am a warrior, a fighter, a solider in disguise.
I am the moon that hides it face in the day, only to showcase it's purity in the night.
I am the stiff wind that knocks the shallow air out of your lungs on a cold, January morning.
I am the tick, tick, tick of the buzzer right before its majestic song.
I am the obscene, the extraordinary, the menacing things in life.
I am not confined by a single word.
I
am
not
nice.

I am empty handed when it comes to us
you leave me deprived of simple human respect
the way you talk to me
you never listen
I know that you are lying when you say you love me
love is not arrogant
the only person you love is yourself
I am only a trophy on your shelf
you take me out when you want to look at me or show me off
but when you are done you put me away
you have adjusted me to revolve around you
you made sure to take every last piece of me when you left
with the intentions of hollowing out my heart
you truly have taken everything else along with it
leaving only a life void of meaning
and empty hands