#thoughtsofateenagestowaway
*I'm frozen.
Standing in place,
my feet still on the cold concrete I once called home.
I can see the spinning wheel.
Constantly turning,
but never changing time.
Like a vortex without energy
or a lamp without light.
It's nothing,
just there.
It exists.
But,
do I?*
Sep 29, 2016
Sep 29, 2016 at 9:56 PM UTC
Don't compliment me, just say you're here.
Sep 26, 2016
Sep 26, 2016 at 10:21 PM UTC
*When I was younger,
I used to think we were all equal.
I guess I was wrong
because now I'm pretty sure this Earth is lethal.
**Don't **** me.
Please.***
Sep 18, 2016
Sep 18, 2016 at 1:30 AM UTC
*I want to run away.
Not very far,
maybe just down the street.
To the home of books upon dusty shelves and checkout cards,
I could get away from reality and just read.
Read about fairylands and mythical wastelands
where the heroes end up winning and all the monsters die.
There's no fear,
no hatred.
Just happiness
and I'll squint at the paper pages,
trying to read the small print
as the sunlight drips over it like a fresh oil painting on a hot day.
The sky will shine like a kaleidoscope array
of precious pinks and bright blues.
I'll lean against an old tree
and my back with probably ache several days later,
but the solitude is worth the pain.
I want to run away,
but my wings won't seem to fly.*
Sep 9, 2016
Sep 9, 2016 at 6:58 AM UTC
*I yearn for that ability,
to feel human without ease.
No binder grasping at your ribs as your breathe,
no **** being stuffed into your pants.
No having to see if your hips stick out in those jeans
or if your chest looks weird in that shirt,
just being human.
Sometimes I think I never will,
because feeling human is a privilege
and the different don't get them.*
Sep 3, 2016
Sep 3, 2016 at 6:57 PM UTC
*Monsters,
they don't have
reflections.
They sense rejection
and think they're not worth
it.
worth love,
so they get rid of.
themselves.
Their personality,
morality turned upside down.
Originality is,
gone.
So think.
No reflection,
no connection.
Are you a monster too?*
Sep 2, 2016
Sep 2, 2016 at 5:40 AM UTC
*I remember the time we met.
I was a broken tea cup,
a prince without a crown.
You were a cracked bottle,
a princess without a gown.
But, life isn't a fairy tale.
We caught eyes
and continued on,
a broken boy and a cracked girl.
Maybe we would've fallen in love.
Maybe we would've healed.
Somewhere,
maybe,
we have a happy ending.*
Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 11:05 PM UTC
*When he was four,
he tried to write a poem
and named it "Happy"
because he was happy.
He had a new toy
and new paints.
When he was nine,
he tried to write another
and named it "Confused"
because that's what he was.
He had questions about his body,
but couldn't find the answers.
When he was thirteen,
he wrote another
and named it "Scared"
because that's how he felt.
His body was changing
and he didn't like it.
When he was Fifteen,
he wrote a different poem
and named it "Knowledge"
because that's what he gained.
He knew what was wrong,
so he told them his new name.
When he was eighteen,
he wrote a new one
and named it "Ghost"
because that's what he was.
Nobody respected him,
his pronouns were never heard.
So when he turned twenty,
he wrote his final poem
and named it "Boy"
because that's what he always was.
He taped it to his door
and danced from his ceiling fan.*
Aug 21, 2016
Aug 21, 2016 at 1:21 AM UTC
*A boy sat alone
with books by his side,
in between shelves
and out of the eye.
His thick glasses hung low
and his face wet with tears.
He'd spent all of high school
hidden in fear.
He always looked back
when he walked home from class
and slept with all the lights on.
He locked the door
and hid from his parents.
They yelled and they screamed.
Arguing every day
and always the boy wished
someone would take his life away.*
Aug 21, 2016
Aug 21, 2016 at 12:55 AM UTC