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  Dec 2018 Ashlee
Ally Ann
A friend asked me
how to be a writer.
I wanted to say,
lock yourself in a room,
scream until you have
a poem and no voice.
Open your veins and bleed
until you know that your bones
are pure words and sorrow.
Act as if you slit your own throat
and all you can bleed
are your own regrets
and all of the darkness
you boxed up for inspiration.
Write your mom a letter,
tell her you're leaving
and you won't be back for awhile
Because being a writer is traveling
through all seven layers of Hell
and denying anything is wrong.
Forget loving yourself
when all you have is a pen and paper
fused to your wrist
and Jesus is tapping at your skull
saying turn back now.
Warn the neighbors that if they smell burning
It's just your soul
clawing at the front door trying to get in.
Learn how to be alone.
Learn how to lose everything you have
in order to feel release,
learn how to only feel deceased
from now on.
A friend asked me
how to be a writer.
All I said was
Ashlee Jun 2018
It's all the same;
the destructive kind,
the beautiful kind.
It's an obsession;
satisfied only by desperation.
it tears you apart,
it puts you back together.
It is weakness,
it is strength,
Without it we are alone;
with it we are forgotten.
It can be overturned so quickly,
it's nature changes.
Light to dark,
Dark to light.
Hope turns to fear,
fear turns to hope;
it's all the same,
Now read it backwards
Ashlee May 2018
It's in everything.
The release of endorphins as I hit my stride,
the way my legs burn as I take turn after turn,
It's the air that scorches my lungs as I inhale;
the cheering that fills my head,
it's the way I fly when I peak,
It's the white noise in my head when I can't go any further,
and it's the way I collapse when i finish;
it's in everything and it's in nothing.
Just a fun little poem that I decided to write
Ashlee May 2018
You say I'm Beautiful, gorgeous, breathtaking,
You say you could write an entire essay about my beauty.
Maybe it's true, maybe it isn't.
The point is,
You say all these nice things,
And all can think is it's too much.

You tell me I'm amazing,
with that smile of yours,
and I should be lit up inside;
but I'm just scared.

You talk about our future,
like it's something that's set in stone,
like we're forever.
And I should be amazed that anyone one make that commitment,
but I'm still scared.

You've done this before,
and, every time,
you fall for her.
That girl who is perfect in every way.
They are your world, your everything.

This time,
I am that girl;
and it's scary,
it's too much,
and I feel like I'm;

What can I do?
Wait for you to go?
That's the simple answer, yes.
But is it the right one?
  May 2018 Ashlee
Don't tell me I'm pretty
Tell me that I'm passionate
That I have drive
Tell me that I make you laugh
That I know how to make your day better
Don't tell me I seem nice
Tell me that I'm kind and compassionate
Tell me that I'm not afraid to dream and to dream big
Don't tell me I'm perfect
Tell me the you love me despite my flaws
That you want to spend the rest of your life with me
Don't tell me I'm beautiful
Tell me that you'll be faithful and forever true
Ashlee May 2018
Do you hear them?
Because you can't.
They died;
so long ago,
and yet,
so recently.
Their voices forever silenced.
By the
gun that went;
So many lives lost with no reason as to why.
They left us;
their friends,
their family,
their classmates,
their fellow citizens.
Wondering why.
Why did they leave us so soon,
those affected by gun violence?
They are all around us,
families of victims,
that kid you shot in the street,
those who committed suicide,
all of them;
All of them gone.
Never to be heard from again.
A tribute to those who lost their lives, loved ones, and those who are affected by gun violence.
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