False walls hide true words
They concede to a twisted view
and demented end game

she was caught up with friends
more lively than she
more than charmed,
she tagged along with glee

life was like bubbly champagne
sweet and fizzy
elegance and with a bit of bite
there simply wasn't anything more she could ask for

she was caught up with friends
more daring than she
more than charmed,
she tagged along with glee

adrenaline sweet as a sugar rush
coursing through her veins
she closed her eyes against the wind,
powerful and empty

doubt niggled at her heart
a small worm in an apple
shaking her to the core
perhaps she should stay gone?

she was caught up with friends
more twisted than she
swept up in a whirlwind,
she was no longer free

I'm disgusted by the rapists that are my blood,
the thieves of smiles and of happiness,
and on my family name they leave mud,
taking away any remnants of innocence.
How could you abuse your own genetics?
Yes you created her, but you do not own her.
You cannot trick her for your own sick benefit.
If you don't want to help her just to help her,
then you should not be there at all;
you should not be forcing yourself sexually
to torture her mind and make her fall
into a dark place she can't exit, really.
My instinct is to protect and create justice,
but I am forced to keep silent this family shame,
just lend an ear, so, he'll never get busted;
I am so angry that I feel like I'm aflame.
A sticky situation, one that makes me sick
and makes me want to scream and kick.
I hope it gets sorted soon, or there will be a war,
because she is more than worth starting it for.

The way Sherrezade looks at Ja'far,
The way she smiles when she talks about him
-Though only an act-
Is one of knowing.
It's a look that says,
That insist,
She knows something.
Something you don't.
But it's also reassuring
As if to say it will be okay
That you'll be enlightened soon

And Ja'far
He is almost naive
He thinks he can save the kingdom
And while he does...
It's just one of those things.
He has a great heart
He truly wants happiness for all

And lastly
The phrase
"You are kind and that's enough"
Is really a simple statement
But it makes sense
And it's something people should hear more as children

Maybe then they'd stay that way..

Who are you
to pick on that person for things they can't change?
Who are you
to be so shallow & superficial?
Who are you
to not see the pain you cause with your words?
Who are you
to hurt the innocent?
Who are you
to hurt anyone?
Who are you?
Respect others
Spread love
We're all sisters & brothers
Share your thoughts,
while listening too,
this world wasn't made,
For just me or just you
It's a temporary home
That we can't take for granted
Because we will leave one day
And all that's left is what we've implanted
our thoughts & ideas
truly can change the world
everyone is a voice
waiting to be heard

This is a poem I must write,
and hopefully not recite
I feel like an old, twisted,
used dish towel thrown across a kitchen sink
my insides opened wide, and the color of pink
pushed aside like nothing at all
just hanging there waiting to fall
I can’t even comprehended
what my heart must feel
this feeling inside can’t be real
there is just no answer; but when will it end?

I met a little boy
Who seemed a little strange
He was sitting in a corner
Just drawing away
He took a look at me
And laughed
"What a sight to see"

I asked him what's so funny
He looked at me again
And had one more laugh
That's when he said

I already know you
You're in my book
And all you can do
Is take a little look

I was ready for a laugh
Oh but a laugh was not in sight
I checked over it once, I checked over it twice
Oh no no, this cannot be right

I spin around, my world has changed
An echo screams "You're cursed, You're cursed"
Freaked out I run for the nearest cover, the echo again
"Too late, too late, this floor your blood shall stain"

I have nowhere to run
Nowhere to hide
Stuck in his book
Just waiting to die

The surface of the water at Garrett Lake
is a ballroom floor, the bluest of hardwoods.
Hiding itself within its leafy forest green walls, which
if looked upon closely, one would swear you can see the woods.
We blazed a trail past a fallen trunk,
presumably lightning struck
whose roots had twisted
into the shape of a moose
fallen to sleep or endure breathe no more,
past the row of trees split
by the trail. One side
Life, the other death.
We found our way to an elder pine
who wanted to be a pier
and dove down so we could
sit upon him, no longer on land,
legs dangling like a chandelier above the ballroom.