Soaring into thoughts unspoken
Chasing ghosts, and things unbroken
Finding devastation isn't always what it seems
Sometimes, what seemed just a notion
Lost somewhere in all commotion
Never really faded, for we feel it in our dreams
With every cloud we dance upon
As darkness flees before the dawn
And laughter comes much more than just a voice inside our heads
We bleed the words, we write the songs
With every right and every wrong
Until our inner muse is satisfied with what we've said

Can you imagine a life in black and white?
I wouldn't like to,
and greyscale never did expose the beautiful complexion
on which I planted fervent kisses
and meaningful whispers
hushed only with the lips of a soul
I can never seek to fathom.

And how would we see
the colors of our wounds?
The fangs of our demise
finding purchase in our skin
and draining all reds, blues, greens.

I think you bleed yellow,
and perhaps that is why you slit your velvet graces,
to find the happiness you know
is somewhere very
very
deep within.

I feel like I am living in a shell.
The words "you don't belong here"
are constantly being echoed back
by my limits.
Things that seem to go natural
with everyone around me
are a lot harder in this shell.
With every inhale of life I take
comes an exhale of desperation to live
and not knowing how to.
It deceived me into thinking
it kept me safe but all this time
it has been what was holding me back.
I see that now
but the words keep echoing in my head
youdontbelonghereyoudontbelonghereyoudontbelonghere

Break­ing out of my shell was never an option
I can not survive without it.
But I do want to leave it
and everyone
and everything
I do want to leave.

I've pushed
      Everyone away
               So they can't
                         Get close
                              To the hatred
                                       And horrors
                                              That fill my
                                                    Dying mind.
                                                                     -e.w.

Everyone has those moments
Where they look in the mirror
And hate what they see.
They see the face of a person
Who has made a thousand mistakes.
They see the body of a person
Who never feels or looks good enough.
They see the eyes of a person
That give a glimpse into their troubled soul.
They see the hands of a person
Who doesn't have another one's hand to hold.
Everyone has those moments
Where they look in the mirror
And hate what they see.
I have those moments
Every time I see my reflection.

© Fully Copyrighted, all rights reserved. Rebekah Fleck.

If you were only one inch tall, you'd ride a worm to school.
The teardrop of a crying ant would be your swimming pool.
A crumb of cake would be a feast
And last you seven days at least,
A flea would be a frightening beast
If you were one inch tall.

If you were only one inch tall, you'd walk beneath the door,
And it would take about a month to get down to the store.
A bit of fluff would be your bed,
You'd swing upon a spider's thread,
And wear a thimble on your head
If you were one inch tall.

You'd surf across the kitchen sink upon a stick of gum.
You couldn't hug your mama, you'd just have to hug her thumb.
You'd run from people's feet in fright,
To move a pen would take all night,
(This poem took fourteen years to write--
'Cause I'm just one inch tall).

You take a hold of the only strength I have left
Then rip it away to make me weak
Just like that
I fall back
                 d
                     o
                        w
                            n
       ­                        again, and again, and again

you played me too much
i'm worn and done with this game
sore from being dropped so much
and trying to be tamed

you used me and threw me out
like nothing more than trash
it's obvious to you i'm disgusting
like a highly contagious rash

a porcelain doll tossed around
now all that's here is broken glass
I'm useless and damaged
not a person not even half