Some girls decide
Done with One, Onto Another.
They stomp on hearts with their
Expensive stilettos.

The difference between
Them and Me:
I don't have the time or money
To walk in their shoes.
And, frankly,
*I don't *want to.

The sound that
Cools the fire,
Also heightens my awareness.

In this moment, It causes me
To worry.

Will he still love me?
Will he judge me?

I need to know.

I listen,
I watch,
I cry,
As my pen moves
Across the page.
Over,
And over,
And over.

The words I write
show the emotion I cannot
Express outwardly

I finish one.
I turn the page.
I continue.
One after another.
Constantly,
Endlessly,
Turning pages.

A girl who danced and loved pink,
A girl who easily made friends,

A girl who changed at age 8.
Pink to black.
Koolaid to bitter tea.
Forgot about God because he was never there for her.

Suicide seemed a miracle then.
A solution for everything.
A girl who was sad but kept it hidden
From the ones who cared,
Hiding behind neon colors and pigtails.

Slowly coming out of her shell.
A girl who was judged.
People feared her, and for her.
They even told her.
Emo,
Goth,
Freak.
She learned these as compliments
And realized people are just ignorant.
They didn't understand what the words meant.

Either way, she hid again.

She is still trying to hide
Behind her colors and smiles.

*I* Am still trying to hide behind my colors and smiles.

wordsarepuzzlesandiammissingpieces

Heart skips,
Stomach falls,
Cupids bow curves up.
The words you speak,
Text,
Communicate in every way
Gives me a constant
Roller-Coaster Ride.