No one told me it would be this hard
To wake up everyday
Unhappy with your reflection
To put on layers, even if it’s summer
Fake grin to cover the other
To look at yourself and cry.

If want was water,
I would be drowning, my head under completely
and my oxygen quickly depleting.
If confusion was cold,
My fingers would be numb and I wouldn't even
have a coat to ward off the freezing.
If youth was you,
It would be slipping away by the second,
And I can't get a hold to stop it.
Now,
my air is gone,
I'm shivering to the bone,
and can't keep a hold on.
But, this is only a poem:
I know I'm not suffocating, subzero, or slipping.
But I can't help but feel like the more I write,
the farther I get from reality
and the closer I get to metaphor mortality.

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

The books are there
But, it is up to us to feed the brain
Valuable information is there
There is lots of knowledge to gain
One can elevate themselves a great deal
Just take the time to learn
The fundamentals present themselves
It is all up to you to earn

Oh honey,
Sometimes it’s the timing that’s wrong
Not you.

When I want to be seen
I want the world to turn it’s head and admire me all at once,
Bask in my glow and worship every inch of me.
I am sculpted from marble and ivory,
Every inch of my skin is precious
I shine in the sunlight like church windows on sunday.

When I want to be invisible every glance feels like a knife in my back,
eyes like daggers
ordinary bystanders morph into hallway critics
Clipboards out pens at the ready
A special page to circle my flaws
highlight my insecurities
underline my fears
I am all at once vulnerable in a place where vulnerability is a very dangerous thing to be.