I am not a phone.
Do not put me on silent.

Depression.
We, as a society,
should step back
and evaluate this word.

What are we doing
that causes people
to cut themselves
or throw themselves
off of bridges?

Are we really so selfish
as to overlook these people?

They are fighting a battle
that we can't even fathom
playing out in their heads.
The casualties, the blood,
everything is real to them.

I will continue to utter,
"We must help"
until it becomes a roar
of people demanding
to give them a second thought.

We must help them.

No more lives should
slip through the cracks.

Love is undefined.
Love is boundless.
Love is measureless.

Let your children go explore.
School does not teach a kid nearly as
much as a romp through the woods
or a foreign exchange.
Meeting new people and finding inner peace must become priorities in life if you want your kids to be happy.
Try telling that to them while giving them worksheets.
Open their minds.
First and foremost, give them some
autonomy to roam.
This will ultimately make them happy.

I have that indominable  **spirit.

There's
           beauty
                      in
                           *silence.

Lay me on the pile of bodies
then incinerate me like the rest.

Mommy, I hurt.

Honey, I don't see any bruises...

It's my heart,** Mommy.

I clench the satin tablecloth in my hand.
A slow drone of smooth jazz echoes in the distance.
The fluttering wisps of cigarette smoke waft to the ceiling as my husband steps into the parlour in his tar black overcoat.
"What took you so long?" I ask concernedly.
He just nodded, gave me a lazy grin
and ordered us two gins.

Until that glimmer in my eye disappears,
I will be forever ensnared in your trap.

Smile.*

Not the stupid
plastic killer clown crap.
Smile like you've just married
the love of your life.

Torrential rain,
pour down on me
and wash away
my misfortunes.

I am trying to find myself
amongst the ashes and shattered pieces
of my soul.

You are not a demon nor a monster
but sometimes my mind thinks you so.

Zone, zone, zone some more,
what do I have to prove?
I always used to love him so
now just let me move.

One teary-eyed girl*
                             One concerned man
One fairytale
                            One lost cause
One true love
                          **One of those other girls

I've tried burning the house down,
bringing the dogs in and
snatching up every piece of furniture you have.
Now tell me, sir, why do you refuse to leave?

I long to know
Your plans for me.

There is no ocean in this world that could contain all of my feelings. No even the sky above has the capacity to hold them. That's why it rains outside just like the salty drops that slide down my cheek.

Know that you are loved.
Know that you are cared for.
Although your heart is weight
and your mind is glass
please don't break.

*Not now.

Now let me go
and I'll bring with me
a wave of misfortune
and unhappiness.

Tell my heart
to let go.

I want to drown
in your sea.

Who is this "you"
you write about?

An old man sits on a bench.
He says nothing.

I walk by.
I gaze into his eyes.
Now I know why he's silent.

I can't stand the phrase,
"I'm fine." because
somewhere down the line
someone hurt you.

Fine is inadequate
to whatever you are feeling inside.
Default answers
bring up more questions
than *answers.

We should be **love.

The rain tapping on the roof
reminds me of every tear
that I have shed for somebody
that I *shouldn't have cried for.

Sometimes
I feel helpless and hopeless.

Sometimes
I want to kiss this country goodbye.

Sometimes
I feel like my life has no purpose.

Sometimes
I want to crawl out of my skin.

Sometimes
I want to love you,
but *you're not there.

I choose to accept
your every quirk.

I am not submissive.
I don't give in
to peoples'
demands, wants, needs or commands.
Instead, I help.
I am courteous.

I am not pure.
I have made mistakes in my life.
I don't need to wear a turtleneck
to conceal my body, but
I practice modesty.

I am not quiet.
I have my own voice
therefore it is my duty to exercise
my right of free speech.
My voice makes a difference.
I speak up for the
downtrodden and the oppressed
the frustrated and distressed.

I am not perfect.
My legs are not skyscrapers
and my waist is not skeleton small
but by golly, I think that I have
the biggest heart of all.
Look into my eyes and see the true me.
A woman. Who else can I be?

I remember the feeling
of your hand on my back.

Soft and warm, yet supportive and tender.
Your face burst into a vibrant smile.

Seeing yours, mine lit up like the night sky.
I swear you could see it from *space.