When we read
We live a thousand lives;
When we write,
  We relive our own.

Blue ink was no friend
Blue ink was the most boring plan
For the trees and hills Suzy ran
When Mama came with a stick in her hand

For months and years Suzy despaired
This forced acquaintance she wished to be spared
This Hulk of a character Mama'd personify
This waste of time, she knew not why

I just wanna be free, Suzy lamented
An uproarious laughter, with which she was greeted
Why do you act all so tormented, said this voice
Without blue ink, you will be mistreated

How do you carve a path of your own
How do you enforce a right you wouldn't have known
How do you right a wrong you don't condone
How do you condone life when left alone

To the books and pages Suzy ran
Devouring much material in the given span
In a solid colour, she saw a world of wonder
In its simple strokes, there was no more to be coaxed

In happiness and despair, Suzy was elevated
In health and sickness, she knew to be liberated
In company and solitude, Suzy was educated
In wealth and poverty, she knew she had profited

Blue ink had granted her the highest of privileges
For to live well, is to live with choice
A coveted privilege, with which we rejoice

To read people like books
I've read many books in my time
Some good ... Some bad
Some deep ... Some sad
Some books don't relate to their covers whatsoever
Some consist of a simplistic cover
Yet relay a deeper story
Others have an immaculate cover
But with no substance inside ... Blank pages
And yes everybody can write a book
But not every book is a Best Seller

We all wear masks
Having a perfect face, that's our task

We are supposed to look like dolls
But when we take off the mask and look in the mirror we start to bawl

Because we are told we should look a certain way
And when we dont we are told we can't stay

We are told to walk straight with our chin up
To cover our masks with makeup

And we all listen in fear of rejection
But maybe we should stand up and make an objection
We should be able to look in the mirror and be happy with our reflection
And not always have to strive for perfection

When will we be happy with our face
When will we catch the perfection that we chase

Will we ever get to be good enough
Will our mirror ever stop calling bluff

Will the people around us except us for who we are
Or will we have to forever hide our scars

We all hide who we truly are behind this mask
Being perfect all around that's our task

Bring the buried flower,
Bring the burned out candle.
Bring the closed notebook,
Bring the ended hour.
Dig up the flower,
Strike the match,
Open the notebook,
Begin a new hour.
Bring the writing you’re afraid of
And regenerate it, and
Make it speak.
Scatter your poems left and right,
Because the world can’t wait to hear
Your words.

They say life's
  
        A story.

Me, I never read mine.
    

I lived it, who wants to know
     The beginning and the ending.

live your story,
     Skip chapters,

Remember your writing it.

My eyes hold all the pain
From my face happiness has been drained
It's hard for me to smile
It's been like this for a while
Noone has noticed yet
And noone will i bet
They are too wrapped up in life
To notice my struggle with strife
Noone cares enough about me
None has heard my plea
I think its my time to go
Because right now im at an all time low