8

She likes video games, reading books
and watching movies with family
She always day dreams
and plays outside alone, imagining.

She looks up to her big sister,
and likes to sing together in her car
Her little sister is annoying
She's always the shining star.

But together all three will walk to the park.

11

She likes to color, play guitar and sing
She dances in her room without worrying
One wall is covered with a teen pop sensation,
Others hold her poems and art that reveal her struggles and wishes.

She liked the attention singing got her
It made her feel like she was worthy.
She did her best to live up to
The things said by her family

13

She was sad often and preferred to be alone
She still played guitar but played games the most,
She liked writing poems and songs,
They let her express herself in any tone

She had plans to go far away one day,
with her best friend she would escape.
There'd be hello kitty tunnels
and fun had every day.

She fell victim to infatuation
which lead to many hearts being broke,
Forced to play outside,
she'd swing away her trauma while grasping ropes.

16

She's quiet, she stays in her room alone, she feels unwanted.
The internet is where she felt she belonged
Most people would hear her out
and wouldn't ask her to play them a song.

She was forced to go somewhere she was needed
She got an education out of it and an identity crisis.

25

She is independent, but still feels scared
She is working to understand her life
and is moving forward with care.

So don't call me Becca,
It reminds me of those years-
the times I was saddest and living in fear.

Becca had a mask that Rebecca has out grown.
The mask is smaller now and is becoming unsown.
It's been a painful process, the mask really hurt
This is where I'm at now, trying to unlearn.

I met an angel sent from god

We fell in love, we planned our wedding, our future

But the last mission the angel needed to accomplish

Was leaving me

And I can’t thank god enough

I was drunk,
you were drinking and well on your way,
for one night we visited again
the apex of us,
a perfect facsimile of those days
when we were ours
and
danced
for hours.

blank faced stone
staring at the lava from which it came
boiling white eyes
crusted, cooling hair
the changing mistress that he once was
her emotions motion the ocean
to break down his defined exterior
and reunite the blue sea with the red lake
for them to create, again

You were never much to look at.
Unless it was up close, heavy breathing eyelash kissing goosebumps kind of pretty.
And you laughed at me and i hated your loud laugh and everything else about you that was so loud.
You lived loudly you were loud; but being loud doesn't mean **** if being loud isn't being honest.
And if being loud is being the kind of loud people like to hear then its not being loud its just adding to everyone else’s ******* noise.
I'm talking about beauty, living with beauty and beauty flowing through your hair and your eyes as they looked into mine but then the beauty stopped the second you ran into me accidentally in a crowded hallway and pretended you didn't mean to get that close.
The beauty you might have had if you hadn't have been so ******* noisy.
The up close heavy breathing eyelash kissing goosebumps kind of beauty that you had with me, you could have shown the world in a loud kinda way this beauty, a goose bump chills kind of beauty.
But you said no and all you’ll ever do from now on is add to everyone else’s ******* noise.

I do not classify myself as a Becca or Becky because the ‘Re’ is important.

The prefix meaning ‘again’ motivates me when I fail to keep trying again.

Failing *****, but growing from mistakes is a beautiful process that I come by often.

I will wear my love for you as you wake
not knowing if I'll be shaken so much today
that I'll let my back out from under support
that I'll let my soul slip sideways and wave goodby
while you look up at the snapping beams
wishing you were still asleep
I will write you a list of words as in our struggle with spoken verse
I am caught with what I mean to say stuck in meaningless whispers
Killing myself again, against your wishes, with cigarettes
spinning the secret notions and emotions in a song
I believe in nighttime you'll find my
praise of you as I sing, deeply

On a winter night,
listen at the window

Cold wind blowing on your face
and through your shirt
let the pressure go
Oh,
Invite my shyly into your space
feel that I'll be thankful
when I wake
that I surround you