I.
I know you do not want to be known
as the teary-eyed girl with an upside down smile
always your arms covered
like unhappy things resided beneath the bright coloured sleeves
like these vibrant distractions could hide the secrets
you feared so       that would come to light someday
and your sorrow so heavy they slowed your footsteps, making your thoughts an overweight baggage you have been forced to drag along, so suffocating you'd wake up with a tear streaked face while the faint ticking of the clock tells you that you
are nowhere near dawn
the house has long fallen asleep but you,
why are you awake
what kept you from sleeping
is the silence too overwhelming to bear
or your thoughts too deafening to ignore
the house has long fallen asleep but you,
you dont know whether to laugh
or to cry

II.
Mother never told you about things that were more dangerous than knives, that there were things that burned you more than stoves and matches, things that do not have sharp edges, like doe eyed boys with a laugh like the sound leaves you'd find at the pavement being rustled by the occasional breeze in June, both the breeze and his voice on top of your list of the unexpected. Mother never told you that the greater danger were the things that do not hold an absolute form, like the way your doe eyed boy kissed you, for the very first time one summer night in June. He held you so tightly. And every kiss never felt the same, and you loved every one of them nevertheless. He left eventually. And you were left with a mess of feelings and a pile of broken heart pieces you tried so hard to piece back into one but the fractured pieces didnt seem to fit back in properly. Those were the things that kept you up for nights, the things school never prepared you for. But I want you to know you are more than the girl with sad eyes standing in the corner of a washed up family photograph, and I know you will love again, you would fall to pieces and drink yourself senseless and scream at the stars, but I know you will love again.

for it was never my intention
to be a puppet with a frown
perhaps you won't believe it
sitting under a liars crown

I've cut myself for long enough
that blood is my middle name
basking naked upon a concrete slab
I've oft been fed back my own shame

so take all these letters, mix them up
juggle them gaily to become verbose
for they have fallen,  at feet
that have stopped walking
just litter, ash, carrion at most

So kiss me on lips
coated in poison

and wish me well

For I am off to a more acrid clime
where secrets will often tell
that hiding behind a wordsmiths spine
will see me burn in hell

shes so tired.
you can see it in her eyes.
and yet she dares to take
college courses and dares to
wear her weird spock ears
to school.

she goes to soccer every day till
6 and still does her homework.
she wakes up at 6 every day and
tries her hardest to get some
sleep at night.

she over thinks (sign of intelligence, right?)
everything and she is kind of a
perfectionist when it comes to school.
shes been slacking with her artwork and
reading but she still drinks green tea everyday.
she just wants to live and to stop being
so afraid of everything.

and her daddy issues slowly get
worse and she shelters herself from
any sort of affection, which is not
okay because she knows that so many
people care for her, right?
dont they?
......

right?

her panic attacks have been getting
worse but she hasnt cut in awhile
and she tries so hard to be
proud but its so hard because
she can barely even breathe
anymore.

A free bird leaps on the back
Of the wind and floats downstream
Till the current ends and dips his wing
In the orange suns rays
And dares to claim the sky.

But a BIRD that stalks down his narrow cage
Can seldom see through his bars of rage
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
Of things unknown but longed for still
And his tune is heard on the distant hill for
The caged bird sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze
And the trade winds soft through
The sighing trees
And the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright
Lawn and he names the sky his own.

But a caged BIRD stands on the grave of dreams
His shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with
A fearful trill of things unknown
But longed for still and his
Tune is heard on the distant hill
For the caged bird sings of freedom.