Today was one of those days
Where nothing goes wrong
But still life has its ways
Where it all feels too long

Nothing really happened
The world didn't end
But still you feel a rend
It's like your hearts a little bent

For no particular reason
Yiu just keep failing
Its not simply a season
And for an instant you think about bailing

But you keep on pushing
And you just have to trust
Its like your on a wing
And suddenly you see rust
And your heart leaps
But deep inside
Your heart still beats
Because you see the wing is wide
And you know you can trust
In the pikot of the plane
And though occasionally
Your faith will wain
The pilots is better than Sully
So you keep your head up
And thank your lucky stars
That your above all these cars
That you can see the world
And so you breathe and look out
And you smile and lose your doubt
Because you put your faith
Not in the plane
But in the one who flies it.

My time is not meant for those who pretend to know me because they have seen an untanned patch of my skin
Do not etch me into your wooden bedpost as another tamed *****

Titles are not awarded for time served
and ***** licked in fits of feverish lust
Not your girlfriend barely a friend
Do you even remember why I was crying last august?

When the sun hits
She pillages tools from the toolbox
Only herself to fix

When the moon sits
Her ocular mislay the bones buried beneath chest
Matters not where she is

Some nights
She's left to claw a dresser with folded oaths
Inflating lungs, forging trust, to lift two toes

Some nights*
The capsules burglarize her gas-tanks war
Stifling her endlessly to the end of the tour

There’s no point in dwelling upon this
Just move on
Get over it
Survive
That’s what I’m doing
Not living
But surviving.

I don’t face my problems.
I put them in a box, lock it, and throw away the key
This is just the way life works
We’ve all got to throw way our boxes
In order to make room for more
Because in this world, baby
The problems never end
Sometimes people just run out of room
And what happens when you run out of room?
Society runs out of room for you

1.      My mother’s mirror makes me look way better than any other mirror. I’m half convinced she put a spell on it or had it blessed to make me feel more beautiful. The way it reflects the light puts green specks in my eyes and a rosy sheen on my cheeks. It makes my hair look softer, my edges smoother. It takes away those fifteen stubborn pounds. I think, maybe, it just reflects my mother’s love.

2.      Red headed boys have it out for me. I have had my heart broken five times and four of those were by red headed boys. **** you, Ronald Weasley for igniting such an infatuation-no, obsession-at such a young age.  It seems that no matter how badly the fire burns, I always seek out another flame.

3.      The people who pass on before us are allowed to paint the sky when they feel like it is needed. Part of your welcome to heaven package is a paint brush. My papaw frequently sends me glorious sunsets and starry nights when he knows I’m feeling sad.

4.      The first time a rough boy put his hands on me, he didn’t do so in a mean way. We were young and he pretended to know what he was doing/pretended that it wasn’t wrong. The second time, he realized he now had control over me.  Though I was never forced, I was manipulated. I do not cry ****, but I still cry.

5.      Growing up Catholic taught me that *** before marriage is wrong. What if part of me thinks *** in general is wrong? What if I can’t take the *** without imaging the unwanted hands all over me? What if my mistakes have made me into an unlovable monster? What if I am too weak to say no to *** and too weak to say yes to love? What if I can fall in love or fall in ***, but never both? 

6.      My mother’s mirror makes me look way better than any other mirror. I know it is because I see my reflection the way my mother sees me: beautiful, strong, unbroken.