He looked at his object with an eye.
So, he came closer to clarify.
An angle that will compliment for each element.
A product that can make a statement.
He chose the bright colors to incorporate.
Because her smile suited a great light.
He focused the subject, and suddenly it was fading.
She was started running.
Running, from the picture perfect life that he created.
She was a medium of unrealistic bliss.
And found herself out of nowhere.
People envied her but they didn’t know the  truth.
She was missing the unfiltered life.
She spaced out, and her heart was bruised.
He was definitely imaginative.
And fooled by unreachable perspective.
He looked at his object with an eye.
Thinking, with her was a root of a great life.

i do not speak like a poet.
my words are clumsy and callous
and i often trip over my own tongue.
there is no beauty to my words
or thought to my form,
and my voice does not fall soft and slow
like honey song, drizzled sweetly into willing ears.
rather it is raspy and quick-tongued,
laced with mispronounced words and oddly said accents.
my sentences race ragged and jumpy,
with capricious contours and half-finished phrases,
and i often lose my train of thought.
impulsive and unrefined,
i do not speak like a poet.

— but on paper i am a different person

The world looks at him, and gets lost in the confusion.
  She looks at him, and she is lost in his world.
Passers by stare at her unknown, unaware for the beauty within
  To him, her beauty lies far beneath her freckles.
Many of us can not even muster the courage to talk to one another
  Let alone, hold a candle to the splendor of true honesty & compassion.

Often replicated but never duplicated
  but duplication is within her.
Labeled for life to be a stigma,
  a supposed taboo.
Earthly born to be ‘weak’,
  but Heaven saw fit to grant her a strong heart & even fiercer spirit.
Undeserving of loyalty, for man deems her ‘broken,’
  Her presence screams throughout time,
“I am NOT broken!”
  She was made for him.

He fits to her soul like the last puzzle piece,
  Vibrant, making the whole picture complete.
Racing is his mind, nothing seems to calm,
  until he sees her, his fiery red hair gal.
Excitement is a curious creature,
   It can be wonderful, when expected.
Speaking can be useful, after much altering.
   But he doesn’t have to change for her,
She knows exactly who he is, and even more.
   He knows how to woo her, from the deepest part of his heart.

Very matter of fact, no filtering required
  for this is a special kind of love.
A love that many so often throw aside,
  to glamorize a cheap imitation.
Bright lights, loud stares, and quiet words
  determined to shatter their dreams.
Hollywood glitz & glamour films, tell of impossible tales
   knowing that they themselves, long for something real.
Give us a tale of how we should love,
  how not to cast aside the broken.
For it is our true stories, of undeserving compassion
  How we are loved for everything we are,
Give us a Love Story like Marissa & Billy.

Please visit the link below to know more about their story:

https://www.facebook.com/Marissa-Billy-a-special-needs-love-story-166422050876423

The frail engines of the past
                 still linger
on the fossil fuel of indoctrinated
perceptions of love,
that were a wonder of the old world.

But found to be filled though
                      ignorant filters of the present.
Prudish, falseness of male masculinity.

Were all engines of unfamiliar injections.
                   That fuel, the love bound within
the pistons of our revving heart.  
                   Fossilised yet each of us
                            still seem to be able
to ignite the fuel of others yearning.

The old engines are redundant,
                     new ages of passion
       fuelled by the spark that a generation
accepting that the fuel of love isn't singular.
                But that we ignite off any source
                that'll help our heart run in unison.

Ive run circles around,
The of right and wrong and where one should belong.
So listen closely,  truth comes in all forms
Even remotely.

You don't scare me.
You threats are empty.
Just like the promises you sell,
It's just not friendly.

So *******.

Power comes when you see
That when you draw fist blood
It's not me who bleeds.

I am certain that you will start to feel
That living life as you do
Slows, not stops, the truth
And truth is real.

So eat the **** that you have been wanting us to eat,
Then I'll be satisfied in knowing
This meal was something forced through your teeth.

Payback isn't always what you may have believed.
This is all you, and unfortunately you'll see.

You aren't even worth the time
Nor does your name deserve a shoutout
In this ticked off rhyme.
I don't need anybody else to fine.

Run along now, go **** with someone else's life.

So I guess I'll let it pass.
But don't think I pity your sorry ***.
Don't think I am grateful for ****.
At the end of the day, your nothing but my *****.

My tears, my shame
Unfiltered words, insane
Words to breath, walks of faith
Pain  beneath, emptiness absorb

A life of grace, to live indeed
Words to ponder, as air I breath
Longing heart, my soul to keep
As years goes by, yearning to live

Tired enough, awaken heart
To fear not death, to live in faith
My present life, forgiveness in ¬Thee
To grow in grace and love

I used to filter my words and actions to meet other's demands. Thankfully, I've gained confidence in who I am.
Because, I would rather be myself, frankly.
I'd rather have my flaws than yours and boast about my imperfections than pretend to be this socially acceptable girl.
Trust me, I'm far from perfect. This I know.
And I'd rather be that than put up a show.

I used to crave for acceptance, but instead I felt pushed away by cliques and clichés, realizing that pretense came with no gains.
Now the filter is gone, and I'm sticking with those who've been with me all along. I choose to be myself today. My life is better like that anyway.