So much meaning behind so few words.
A story, mostly hidden, yet to be told.

I'll share it with you, if you wish.

Hidden in poetry is
A past,
A present,
A wished-for future,
And pain.
So much pain.
And love.
So much love.

It contradicts itself, mostly.
A beautiful song, sung by the pen and paper,
That shows horrific, or beautiful, things.

I'll show them both to you, if it is so desired.
I have both, now at least.
Don't you see?
The beauty, love, and surrender hidden in these words
Are for you.
You are my inspiration,
Poetry is... *My escape.

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.

As the thoughts and emotions flow,
The pages fill up.
What will happen when my mind
Has nowhere to turn to?
No more pages to fill?
When a pond is full, it overflows,
Letting go some of what makes it beautiful.
What will happen to my pages,
My storybook,
My escape?
If it overflows, it wont let me in anymore.

They're back.
As they try to escape,
I silently scream,
Paralyzing them.
I think they're scared of me.
They know what is in my head.
The thought of seeing myself dead.
I'm scared of me, too.
They try to run down,
Rain down,
But they're all I have.
If they escape and my eyes go dry,
I'll be empty.

I am nothing without my tears.

"Sticks and stones may break my bones,
But words will never hurt me."
All parents and teachers say so,
But they are wrong.
And they know it.
I've heard it all.
Fake,
Emo,
Suicidal freak.
It's true.
I am, but
I don't want people to know.
That's why I wear my mask.
Everyone says it's beautiful,
But if they saw the horror underneath...

My mind is broken,
And if my mask is broken, too,
I'll prove it to you.

No.
Not yet.
Just wait until I get home...
Safe in my room,
With my music,
My books,
My chalkboard.
That's all I ask.
It'll be difficult,
But, please,
Hold off my tears until then.
Please not yet.

dontspeakjustholdme.saveme.breatheme

I can't do it.
I can't pretend anymore,
But I can't be myself either.
This...
This...
This MASK is crazy glued to my face!
A never-ending smile,
A never-ending mass of energy.
I'm tired,
I'm upset,
I'm only happy around a few certain people,
I'm helpless.
I can't stop it.
Help me...
Help me...
HELP ME BE ME!!!

Please?

                                       Dear Diary,
                                       I can't handle this anymore...

I have this lipstick.
It's burgundy,
My favorite.
You seem to like it, too.
Today it put it on,
Pretty and Perfect,
But now I have this feeling...

It is smeared.

He tells me not to worry,
But I can't help it!
I know
He tells me he loves me,
That I'm more important than the views of others,
But I know it gets to him.
It always does after a while.

I don't know what to do...
He keeps telling me "Don't worry about it."
But I. Can't. Help. It.
I can't!
I don't want this to affect us...

Please speak to me, Diary. Just this once,
Offer me solace.

Sincerely,
*Kestrel

I worry constantly that something will happen.
It isn't intuition, or abandoned hope, or a threat,
I just worry. It is because of experiences
In the past. They ruined me. Scarred me.
All I need to heal, is to know.
Know that I am okay, That I am accepted.
I still worry that this will affect us, but
I still love you. I will fight for you.
This might just turn into a love poem,
Though that was not my original purpose.
But things happen. It is inevitable, I believe.
Just like worrying. I can't help it. It is habitual.
And like writing. I cant help it if I write about
You. It happens. And it will always be a love poem.

They're back again.
I've used that line before,
But I can't help it.
They keep coming,
Keep trying to escape.
In my head, I scream,
Paralyzing them.
I think they're scared of me.
They know what is in my head.
The thought,
The wish,
To see myself dead.
I'm scared of me, too.
They try to run,
As I have done many times before,
But couldn't.
I can't let them escape,
Can't let them accomplish what
It is impossible for me to do.
They're all of the protection
I have against myself.
If they run, rain, fall,
And they don't come back,
I'll be empty.
Numb.

Unaware of your effect,
I welcomed it.
The kiss that seemed to solve
Anything.
Now that I know,
I'm addicted.
Your taste,
Your touch,
Your voice,
Everything.
And more of these
Are yet to be discovered.

I never knew
of the lies,
the stories,
or the actions that meant nothing.
Never knew
how they would affect me.

I never thought
about how mistreated,
degraded I was.
I was told things about myself.
I never thought
that they might not be true.

I never acted
on the people that
made my life Hell.
Mostly myself.
Too much is expected of me.
I never acted as though
I was real.

Never again.

Never again will I
lie to myself.
About myself.
Nor will I accept lies from others.

Never again will I
Refuse to think of
my own well being.
Nor will I be ignored by others.

Never again will I
sit by and watch
while this Hell tortures me.
Nor will I feel that pain again.

Never again will I
think of myself as a lesser being.
For I am whole.
Not a fraction of
what I should be.
I am one.
One who knows.
One who will stand for myself.
And for those like me.

Here's to the **REJECTS

I want to die.
Tell me,
Is it possible?
Can I do it myself?
Or will I be judged.
Ignorant little pests
Who belong to a certain religion
Tell me I'd go to hell.

But I'm already there.
And I can not escape.

My one
And only
Real Hell,

Has been in my head
The whole time.

Randomly pin my arms above my head
And kiss me senseless.
Hug me from behind when I'm at my locker.
Whisper that you love me in a stage whisper
so everyone can hear.
Grab my hands and twirl me in circles.
Wrestle me down and tickle me until i can't breathe.
Write my name across your hand
And sign your name on my neck.
Forget everything people say and go for it,
Because no one would do a better job than you.

ishouldhavekissedkim

amazinghowonewordcanmakemesway

I can say the things that cannot be said.
It sounds contradictory,
But it is possible.
I will use my body, my soul.
I will hold you while you cry,
And catch your tears in a stained glass jar,
So I can break it over someones head.
I will be your confidant,
Silently mourning your sadness,
But keeping it hidden by your request.
I will be the person you wont be afraid to open up to,
You would come to me,
And let go.

I can say the thing that cannot me said:
I am here,
And so are you.

dontletpettyliesenteryourbloodstream

Although life is one pitiful concert,
Not everyone needs to play or perform.
The music plays, happily or hurt,
But never loses the mind it flows in from.

The ear of an adolescent girl
Listens intently to quizzical noises.
The voice of a teen male yet to unfurl,
Cracks under pressure before other voices.

Nerves take the best of him, dragging away
The voice of one blossoming new artist.
The listener and artist go to stay
Under the lonely heavens in the mist.

If the two bodies officially met,
What would become of old decisions?
Just as if the mist would rise and wet
Their instruments, would it mute musicians?

acceptingoneforthemselvesisonlyanewlydifficulttask

dontletthelittlethingsharmyou

Some times
I wish I spoke in
In a different tongue.
So no one understands the words.
So I could be as outrageous as I want to be.
So people would think me kind, but I am cursing them
For being the opposite of what they think of me.
So no one would bother me about homework.

So I could be alone.

I don't know why I wish this,
But I do.
Maybe so I can think.
Speak
Be
Only what I want to.
And only when I want to.

I don't mean to wish for isolation,
But I do.

What if
I was insane?
I would hear whispers,
Yell back at them,

"LEAVE ME ALONE!"

But they'd stay.
Crying.
Telling me I'm heartless,
And that they're lonely.

'Then don't be.
That's what got me here,
In this room,
Alone
Again'

What if it was different?
What if
I was sane?

My blood is
Red
Purple
Blue
Green
Yellow
Orange
Red.
My blood is red.
I wish for something else,
Maybe
Magenta
Lavender
Sky
Hell, even tangerine,
But no.
My blood is red.
Just like everyone else.

A boy told me once
That he loved me.
That he wanted me.
To understand me.
I told him,
"No"
He looked confused.
As if I'd dedicated myself
To a life of isolation.
Not too far from truth, is it?
"You can't."
He looked at me.
"Why?"
Yes.
Why indeed.

The last thing I said to him
Before I left,
"Because it is impossible."

ifiamwhatieat.ieatpeanutsandalmonds.iamnuts

livelifelovelifelaughatthefacthatyoushouldnt

myheadpoundsmyheartbeatsmysoulthrobs

Once a world void of color,
Empty.
Dark.
Lonely.
Turned bright.
Full of color,
But still
Empty.
Dark.
Lonely.

Only stillness lived
In the world full of color.
Once
Void of color.
Until
One minute passed.
A soft whistle,
A chill,

And blackness.

A buzz.
A flash.

Colorless.

The light switch broke.
I can't fix it,
But you can.

Do you know?
Because I sure as hell don't...
I know a lot of people have this.
This 'disorder.'
I know some people understand.
Understand what it's like.
I know I am not alone.
But no one knows
Me.
My hell,
My head,
Me.
Most people know why.
Most people have reasons.
Most people have excuses.
Not me.
I don't know why.
I don't have reasons.
Do you know?

I like you.
That's all there is to it.
I like you.
But we can't.
I'm still young.
But so are you.
My mother doesn't approve.
Yours?
Its because of experience.
Your experience.
But is that it?
Or is it because...
You are a girl, too?

findtherealitythatsuitsyoubest.goforit

"Get her, girl!"
"Talk to her!"
"Are you two...?"
"Ask her out!"

No!
Maybe?
Okay.
But I don't know!
We're just teenage girls!
Why is there so much pressure!?
So much rain?
This flower needs water,
But there's already too much!
Soon it will die.
Drowned.
I want to, but,
Then again,
I don't know if I should.
I wish to love
While I'm still young.
To Love Young
But,
This?
It's more like...

Love Maybe...

I'm indecisive!
I can't help it!
I'm lost!



I'm scared...

I am treated
Like a useless little girl.
I'm sure a lot of women are.
For example,
When I was little,
I wanted to learn how to carve wood.
I asked my father for a pocket knife.
He told me,
"No. You are too little and fragile.
You might hurt yourself."
I agreed. I was small.
But my brother,
Three years younger,
Asked the same a few months later.
And he got what he wanted.

And then,
Years later,
My brother did the same.
He was told by our mother
To chop ice in the winter.
I knew he wasn't strong enough.
He isn't athletic or strong
As I am.

I asked to do it while he did my assigned chore.
Dishes.
A "woman's chore."
My brother,
My younger,
Smaller,
Weaker brother
Said to me
"Its a big job.
I think I should do it.
You are a girl, after all."
He went and came back.
whining that it was too difficult.

I went and got it done.
Without breaking a sweat.
And then he blamed me for being sexist
And rubbing it in that i was stronger,
When I never said a word.
I just sat,
Clicking my T.V. remote.

I thought about all of the other times,
Countless times in my life when I was treated like this
My most all men in my family.

Really?
I'm the sexist one?

confusionistheonlyparasitetoeverentermybody