# data[].attributes.body
Someone once told me

To imagine what I wanted to do in five years

Think about my goals,

My dreams,

And my future,

And then to put it realistically in relation to my chronic illness

But all these things,

Realistically,

Are beyond my reach.

My body

And its limits,

Limit me

# data[].attributes.body
The hardest thing is realizing you’re different from everyone else

That you’ll never fit in quite the same

No matter how much you play pretend,

Your brain is just different

I’m only now learning why I am this way

And it’s hard

If only I had always known.

Maybe I wouldn’t be so lonely

# data[].attributes.body
Living with a chronic condition is hard

Because my body creates its own terms and conditions

But I didn't agree to them

I never even got a chance to read them

But I have to play by them

The rules change at random

But I’m never told them

So it becomes a game of test it and find out

But if I break a rule,

Then I’m out for the day

I have to push my limits

But I’ve got to listen to my body too.

An impossible balance.

# data[].attributes.body
When life gets rough,

you sometimes lose all hope.

What used to be a small shadow of depression and anxiety,

It has now become an all-consuming darkness.

It surrounds you like a suffocating blanket,

It snuffs out every light in your life.

But there will be a small flicker.

A firefly.

A small flickering sign of hope.

Catch it.

Hold on to it.

And soon,

That little firefly will turn into a candlelight.

It’ll be small but steady.

And if you let it,

It will grow into a torch.

And that torch will become a proper flame,

And that flame will grow into a bonfire,

And that bonfire into a forest fire.

And that forest fire?

It will become the sun

# data[].attributes.body
Will I ever see myself as pretty enough?
Will I ever look at my body,
With its stretch marks,
And its freckles,
And its curves,
And all its marks,
And call it beautiful?

# data[].attributes.body
Is it the drink in her hands,
With its blood red sweet drops,
Or her daughter that came from her womb
That she loves more?

# data[].attributes.body
My mind is sick
It tells me things about myself I know aren’t true
But I hear it so often
It’s hard not to believe it anymore

I just want my head to get better

# data[].attributes.body
I don’t have the energy anymore

# data[].attributes.body
They say fate has already decided who’ll you’ll be with
That there is a person out there who completes you
That that person is walking the same earth as you are right now

But what if I don’t have one?

# data[].attributes.body
I was always the smart kid
The bright kid
The determined one
The creative one
The one that had a bright future

But now,
I can hardly bring myself to stare at the screen and read the paragraphs of information that is my school work

I can’t bring myself to smile anymore,
It’s getting quite difficult.
My face is almost always neutral now.
I just don’t have the energy.

I’ve lost all motivation
Every task is suddenly daunting
I can’t complete the simplest task
Let alone try and get through a day

I can’t hold a pencil to a paper
Or bring my voice above a whisper when I sing
I spend hours rewriting these poems
And never being satisfied with them

The future looks dim
I can hardly see it
My goals are fading
And I’m living every moment breath by breath

# data[].attributes.body
Nothing could ever feel so hollow
As when you are staring at a scene
That most would cry
Or laugh at
But your chest just feels empty.

There is a hole inside of your chest
That you can’t quite make out.
Anything you pour into it
Pours right back out.

Nothing can fill that hollow spot in your chest.

No matter how hard you’ve tried,
It remains empty,
And hollow,
And cold.

When was that space so empty…?

# data[].attributes.body
Being suicidal isn’t as simple as “I want to die.”

Being suicidal is trying to imagine your life five years down the road and only seeing a coffin,
Or not being to imagine it at all.
It’s not an unwillingness to live,
But the lack of will completely.

Life becomes a chore.
The act of breathing suddenly drains your energy,
Eating becomes meaningless,
Sleeping is your only moment of peace,
And that’s only if it finds you.

It’s looking at the people around you and wondering if they would be better off if you didn’t exist at all.

It’s wondering how they would react.
How quickly would they forget?

It is finding every reason to not live,
And struggling to name one reason to live.

It is wondering if you could solve all of your problems
By removing what you deem the main problem.
Yourself.
Or at least removing yourself from the equation and hoping you find peace with it.

It’s pondering what death is like,
If there’s an afterlife,
If it’ll be painful,
If it’ll finally bring you some peace.

Being suicidal isn’t as simple as “I want to die,”
It is a complex feeling that you will never be able to fully explain.

# data[].attributes.body
We both know that you’ll be the death of me one day,
But I could never hope for a sweeter death than you

# data[].attributes.body
It’s always been there,
That I know,
But it’s ever present still.

It’s like everything is wrong,
Everything is too much,
Something’s going to happen,
I just don’t know what.

But it’s always been this way,
I don’t remember a time that it wasn’t.
Placing a name to the feeling doesn’t change anything.

I’m trying.
I really am.
But sometimes I can’t tell if I’m getting better.

# data[].attributes.body
I know I’m supposed to be getting better,
Logically, there shouldn’t be anything wrong with me.
But it doesn’t seem that way.
I’m supposed to be getting better,
But then why does everything stay the same?

It’s not the worst,
But it’s not the best.
There’s a dull ache in my chest.

# data[].attributes.body
There are some days
Where everything is good
Nothing can happen
To dampen my mood

And then there are most days
Where I am five seconds from crying
My chest is a full ache
I am so tired

# data[].attributes.body
When times get tough for me,
Tears falling down my face,
That’s when you say “I love you”

You always tell me,
You never tell me “I love you” enough.
Well, I’m feeling that now.

I sit here in my bed,
Wondering if you really do love me.
I can’t tell sometimes.

How sad, right?
Your little girl,
Unsure if you love her?

# data[].attributes.body
I know a friend,
who breaks every device.
I watched his phone die,
and we laughed as the screen went black.
He ground down an AirPods case,
just to fit the wrong AirPods in.
At least we get a fun laugh

# data[].attributes.body
Sometimes,
people have a good family,
sometimes,
the people in the family are good,
but they shouldn't be family.

The fights are loud,
and god,
none of us are proud.
Times get rough,
we love each other
but it can get tough.

Relationships fall apart,
pray you don't get caught in the middle.
You get caught,
pick a side,
and pray you pick it well.

Otherwise,
stay out of it,
and keep your head down
with your mouth shut.

We all got family problems,
just some got it worse.

# data[].attributes.body
Did you know,
that rainbows never end?
These colorful wonders,
so brief and beautiful,
are a circle with no end.

They follow a storm,
heavy and forlorn,
with something light and bright.
Something to remind us,
there is also a calm after the storm.

You may be in the middle of a storm,
but look forward, my friend,
there is something beautiful at the end,
you've just got to see it through.

# data[].attributes.body
Listen to the words of this broken voice,
just so it can feel heard,
if only by someone who doesn't understand.

This broken voice repeats
because it has no one to listen,
so it repeats to itself,
as if comforting itself.

If you listen closely,
you may find some words to keep,
because it won't be long,
till the broken voice no longer speaks.

# data[].attributes.body
Talking to a crowd is always terrifying,
we all have that thought,
the thought that everyone will laugh at us,
and yet we are our own worst critics,
but we expect others to be the critic.

Don't write out everything you'll say,
just add some points,
some directions,
and stand,
then speak.

# data[].attributes.body
Just because the fates decided us to be,
doesn't mean we should,
a case of the right people,
just the wrong time.

We were never meant to be romantic,
more of siblings,
maybe even just friends,
and that's okay.

I am who you need me to be,
just as you are for me.
That is our fate,
the way we decided it to be.

# data[].attributes.body
As in the heavens above,
as it is in the hells below.
Pray for the middle,
and hope for mercy.
Those above will condemn you for the juice on your lips,
but those below will whip you for your kind deed.
At least in the middle,
you'll be hated equally.

# data[].attributes.body
Deep down under
where the sinners go to die
you'll find an old guy.
His eyes are cloudy,
and his voice is as rough as gravel.

Go up and greet him,
bring a pair of coins.
Lay those coins on his eyes,
and don't speak 'till you do.
Trust me and don't be rude.

Don't look at his face,
always look right behind him,
you will not be prepared for what you see.

Ask him your questions,
but be prepared for a fee,
be ready to pay it,
or be ready to flee.

For if you go deep down under,
the man you may meet,
is not the one that you see.
Heed my words,
and listen close,
'less you never be free.

# data[].attributes.body
It doesn't matter the cards you're dealt,
or how many aces you've got in your hand,
any hand can win,
and any hand can lose,
all that matters is you play it right.

# data[].attributes.body
60 seconds.
That's how long I have to make this run,
but I'm expected to make it in less than 20.
I can feel that familiar anxiety in my chest,
feel that anticipation,
my heart racing.

They call my name,
we make our final circle,
and then we're running forward in a flash.

I don't breathe in those seconds,
as we round the barrels,
as we make a dash to the next,
I don't breathe.

I am so focused on the turns,
on getting around the barrel and to the next,
that I forget to breathe.

Air only fills my lungs after we round that third barrel
and run straight out,
past the timers,
and down the alley where I pull the reins,
and we slide to a stop.

# data[].attributes.body
They say our minds are sick,
that we need to be cured,
that there is something wrong with us.

They give us pills,
and tell us to take them every day,
that these things
will fix us.

But what if I am comfortable in my sickness?
What if I am comfortable in this disease?

# data[].attributes.body
Someone once told me,
the more people tried to disprove the existence of Christianityity's God,
the more proof they found.
That may be true,
it may not be,
they say faith is believing in something that cannot be proven necessarily

I don't know how to feel,
don't know how to think.
These people believe so strongly,
they believe that there is a God, so kind.
But I feel the need to disagree.

Why would an all-seeing being,
create humans,
knowing they would fail,
knowing that they would be flawed,
and yet punish them for something it saw coming?

I do not understand,
because I cannot understand how something can claim to love its creations,
and yet put those very same creations through so much suffering?

# data[].attributes.body
The other night,
quiet yelling echoed off the halls,
it woke the girls,
they listened to our parents yell at each other.
They didn't sleep well that night.

Mom slept in my bed with me that night,
she said she didn't want to sleep in the same room as dad.
I wasn't surprised,
it wasn't the first time.
I've just gotten used to it,
they don't fight often,
but it's enough that I'm used to sharing my bed.

# data[].attributes.body
Time exists,
but we humans designed the concept
that there is a set amount of time.
Like 12 months in a year
around 30 days to a month,
7 days to a week,
24 hours in a day,
60 minutes in an hour,
60 seconds in a minute,
and so on.

In reality,
time is always passing,
always has,
and always will.
There is no beginning
and there is no end.

# data[].attributes.body
One thing people don't realize,
not everyone is like you.
It's so often that people don't understand,
refuse to understand,
when I say that I have one thing or another.

They offer me cake,
disregarding that I tell them I can't,
that it could kill me,
I've pushed the allergy too far already.
They eat in front of me,
knowing I can't join in.
My stomach hurts sometimes,
but now I don't feel hungry,
I've gotten used to it.

They try and toss a ball,
even after I dodge and tell them I can't,
I don't want to have a reaction,
I don't fancy having to stab myself
if it goes wrong.
I'd like to be able to breathe,
not suffocate.

I'm not bad yet,
but that doesn't mean,
that I will get better,
I can only be stable,
or get worse.

# data[].attributes.body
When you live in it,
it feels like it drags on for so long,
you want to grow up so quick,
but by the time you get past it,
you wish you could have stayed there

# data[].attributes.body
You will always remember the day
that you look at yourself
and realize you're not a kid anymore.
You will wonder,
where did the child go?

# data[].attributes.body
I remember the day I looked at myself,
and actually looked at myself,
and judged myself.
It was 4th grade.
The girls never left me alone.
I could no longer look at my body in a mirror without pointing out the faults.

# data[].attributes.body
I always try and change how I look,
whether it be how I dress,
or my hair,
I never want to be the person I was yesterday.
I want to be someone else.

# data[].attributes.body
It only hit me a few days ago,
that I will be leaving.
That my last day here won't just be one that leads to a first day of a new year,
it will be my last day.

It feels weird,
that my last day is fast approaching,
and yet it feels like it's not.

These months have been daunting,
they felt and looked so long,
but they passed, so quickly.

# data[].attributes.body
Ask anyone that knows me,
they will say I love sweet things,
that I've got quite the sweet tooth.

It's true, I do,
but then why do I surround myself
with bitter people?

# data[].attributes.body
I don't think you understand how much I appreciate you,
you never had to talk to me,
never had to listen,
but you did.

You listened whenever I needed someone,
read through the paragraphs,
paragraphs of my rants,
and gave advice.

Just know,
even if we haven't talked in months,
I am here to return the favor.
Whenever times get hard,
when life is rough,
send me paragraphs.

Just like you did for me,
I will do for you,
and for everything you've done,
thank you.

# data[].attributes.body
It's been so many years,
since I last called him dad.
I don't know when I stopped,
when I just started calling him by name.

It was only a few days ago,
sitting in the passenger seat of my brother's car,
holding back tears,
when I texted him.

"Hey dad?
Can you tell me some good things about me?
It's been a very rough day"

At that moment,
he wasn't just a name,
he was dad,
because something in me told me that,
told me that is his name.

# data[].attributes.body
(For my friend)

There's always that moment in life,
that moment where you get really hurt,
but no one believes you.

They will laugh,
they will say you're seeking attention
and then when they find out,
one way or another,
that you were actually hurting,
they dismiss their actions.

These are the people that do not care,
these are the people who could watch you fall,
watch you stumble,
watch you break your bones,
and tear yourself apart,
and will still say you were looking for
attention.

Do not pay these people mind,
they do not know what it's like.
They could not possibly live in your body,
and understand how you feel.
So don't pay them any mind,
they do not matter.

# data[].attributes.body
You know,
I've been told to publish these poems,
these quotes,
and these words,
but I don't know.

I have poured my heart into many of these,
done so much on this,
do I want to see what happens
if I publish and it doesn't sell?

I don't know how I would feel,
opening up to the world,
and being ignored,
going unseen.

# data[].attributes.body
Not too long ago,
I went to a wedding.
It was a sweet one,
filled with giggles,
and smiles.

The rain came,
the sun was setting,
but they didn't seem to care.
They held each other,
and danced in the rain.

The way they looked at each other,
the smiles on their faces,
the way that they didn't mind the rain,
as if it wasn't freezing.

It was entrancing the way that they danced,
as if it was only the two of them,
as if nothing mattered but the other.
Their love will last.

# data[].attributes.body
It weighs down on you,
your heart just sinks,
tears well up in your eyes.
You may not cry now,
but you know you will,
when you're out of the public eye.

# data[].attributes.body
Do you just sit there, the day before something major,
and think of how you feel?
Like, the day before the weekend starts,
everything seems to drag by,
but it's full of anticipation.

Or the day before a test,
you sit there,
pondering,
worrying,
anxious.

It's always the day before when you start to feel all of it,
like the weight of what might or will happen
is just now weighing down.

Is today your day before?

# data[].attributes.body
It's boring,
sure,
but at least it gives you an excuse to say you're busy.

# data[].attributes.body
Forgive me,
I do not know how my blood
drips from my tongue
and turns to acid
as it burns through your skin

# data[].attributes.body
I'm sorry

# data[].attributes.body
One day,
I will name a horse journey.
I will name that horse journey because they will take me on one.
That horse will carry me on a journey,
they will carry me far in my life.

One day,
I will name a dog lovely,
because they will be.
I want to remind myself,
that no matter how upset I am with the dog,
that they are to be loved.

One day,
I will rename myself to worthy,
so that I will remember that I am worthy.
So whenever I feel that I have no meaning,
I will remember that I am worthy.

# data[].attributes.body
I knew a person,
so long ago,
who ripped open their wounds,
and never let them heal.

She rubbed them with sandpaper,
took a blade to them,
boiled her blood with flame,
because she never wanted to heal.

She bled out onto all those she knew,
the wounds both old and new.
She drowned them in her blood,
and screamed that it was their flood.

She knew nothing else,
Than the wounds that bled.
She was comfortable in her pain,
it was her home.

There was only so much,
only so much that I could do.
A child bandaging her wounds,
that kept bleeding through.

One day,
that girl that I knew,
bled out until she was blue.
She choked on her wounds.

Consumed in her woe,
she never took time to seal the wounds,
to stop the overflow.
And soon, the wounds consumed her.

I have many of my own wounds,
some old and some new.
But I have taken the time to heal them,
they become scars.

Some of them are still bleeding,
they drip and roll down my back,
sometimes bleeding onto those I love.
It stains their hands when I never meant to.

My wounds are either carefully but slowly bandaged,
or they are painfully sealed shut by scorching flame.
Those scars are the worst,
sometimes they break open again.

I am trying to leave that home,
the comfort of my own aches and pain,
one passed down through my family.
But I am scared.

Do I leave?
If I leave, will I leave them behind?
I don't want to lose them,
but I am losing myself.

Help me to bandage the wounds I cannot reach,
do it by any means.
Whether you stitch them,
or scorch them shut.

I don't want to bleed out,
I don't want to choke on my blood.

# data[].attributes.body
The night is so very unappreciated,
we humans take it for granted, so often.
It wraps us up in a blanket of silence,
cradling our minds into rest.
It comforts the disturbed,
and calms the chaotic.

The night is truly a beautiful sight,
when everything is transformed into something different,
when the chirping birds become crickets,
the rustling leaves become ocean waves,
and the silence becomes comforting.

Some are afraid of the night,
but there are those of us who greet it like an old friend.
We have spent so much time in it
that it has become our home.
So when the sun dips below,
we know we have made it back.

# data[].attributes.body
There are so many things labeled monsters,
so many people labeled monsters,
they are labeled monsters before they even speak their first words.

So tell me, why?
Why are they monsters?
What makes them monsters?
They are only living up to what you decided to be their fate.

# data[].attributes.body
The most beautiful minds are the ones most broken.

There is something about the way they think that entrances me.

Maybe it’s the way words seem to bleed and slip through the cracks of their hearts,

Or maybe it’s the way their eyes swirl with untold stories not yet finished.

It might just be that the way their voices carry such meaning with every word that drips off their tongues.

# data[].attributes.body
A form of irony in which someone feigns indifference to something he or she desires.

# data[].attributes.body
You often hear people swear that Ai will be the end of mankind,
that they will either kill or enslave us.
I can't quite understand the fear,
maybe it's because I think too much,
but I believe the reason we fear this reality,
is because we made it reality for others.

Think back on all the things you've been taught,
we fear what Ai will do because we have done it.
Murder? Definitely done it.
Enslavement? Yup.

We fear what we have created because we know it will be just like us,
it will either become better,
or it becomes so much worse than us.

But hey, new technology,
that's nice at least.

# data[].attributes.body
Desire to stay in the sun; love of sunlight

# data[].attributes.body
No longer feeling any affection for someone you once loved

# data[].attributes.body
Tending to promote peace or reconciliation

# data[].attributes.body
Wandering alone

# data[].attributes.body
“The Floating World”; living in the moment, detached from the bothers of life

# data[].attributes.body
You know,
I've been so many places in my short life.
I have spent years drifting
and I wonder if I will ever stop.

First two years of school,
that would be kindergarten and 1st grade for me,
were spent with black eyes,
bloody noses,
and bruises.

The next four weren't quite as bad,
at least not physically.
Smiles greeted me, but whispers followed.
Friendliness often false,
and words were honeyed poison.

The last four have been spent here,
a small group of misfits,
but eyes follow everywhere.
Everyone knows everyone,
therefore, they know everything.

Keep your mouth shut and speak in whispers,
word travels fast in such a small world.
Careful what you utter,
and try not to stutter.

# data[].attributes.body
As you sit there,
reading this poem,
take a moment to listen.
Sit back in your chair or wherever you are,
and just listen to the things around you.

You may find,
that you are hearing things you've never heard before,
or you will find that you never cared to listen to it all.
Is it not a joyous thing?
To be able to listen?

# data[].attributes.body
At this very moment, someone is drowning
They are drowning above the waters
and there is no one to save them.
Save them.

Someone you know is drowning in an ocean,
and that ocean is made up of every single emotion
and it is overwhelming them,
killing them.

They need someone to reach out their hand,
to save them from the whirlpool that is inside their head,
from their thoughts,
and from their memories.

They are barely holding on to adrift wood,
but how much longer can they hold on?
How much strength,
how much will do they have,
to keep holding on?

# data[].attributes.body
I had a breakdown last night,
I don't know why I feel the need to write bout it,
but here I am,
typing away at my computer.

Sometimes,
you need to let it all go.
Everything that has been building within your chest,
every word left unsaid,
needs to be let go of.

For me,
I admitted my anger,
my hurt,
everything.
I cried for hours last night,
didn't get any of my work done last night.
Just cried until I could hardly keep my eyes open.

My anger?
My anger is at God.
I cannot fathom how a God they claim to be so good,
would let his followers suffer so.
What did we do wrong to deserve this?
What did my mom do to deserve that agony?
What did I do to deserve this pain?

I am hurting,
the pain is dull but overwhelming.
I have gone through so much,
all of it in such a short life.
I am so tired of it all,
why can't my life be good for once?

You know,
they say that if you don't take time to care for yourself,
it'll take years off your life?
If that's true,
then everyone will be attending my funeral
when I am only in my 20s.

# data[].attributes.body
Within my purse, different things can be found,
some are quite common,
and others unusual.

In my purse, you will find my keys.
My keys are old and new,
they are held on a lanyard that is blue.

In my purse, you will find some pills,
some are white and some are pink,
some of them may save me should I find myself on the brink.

Within my purse, you will find my AirPods,
they are well cared for and well-used,
some may even say that they are overused.

In my purse, you will find two cylinders,
these were given by someone I knew,
these are filled with lip oil and plumper too.

In my purse, you will find my wallet,
it was passed down to me,
I guess that's better cause it means it was free.

Within my purse, you will find my inhaler,
it is there for when I feel that I cannot breathe.
And for moments like those, I seethe.

In my purse, you will find many things,
many of these things are important, you see?
So if you find anything of mine, please return it to me

# data[].attributes.body
There is a special box,
hidden deep and around,
waiting to be found.

Within this box you'll find,
the things you've lost inside.
Everything lost, it will provide.

Be wary of what you might see,
for what does reside may be quite the surprise,
Try and be wise.

You may take one thing from within the box,
but be careful with what you choose,
and do not let it be of misuse.

So when you do find that old box,
be careful and treat it right,
it will bring things to light

# data[].attributes.body
What is right,
and what is wrong?
They are simply concepts we humans created,
concepts we use to trap people in situations,
or to aid us in our escape from one.

Do you think the snake that bites the rabbit feels bad,
feels that it has done wrong?
Do you think that the rabbit cries out that it is wrong?
Does nature care what is right or what is wrong?

We humans created the concept because of our morals,
in the end,
that will be what dooms us.
Because we are sentient,
because we can think,
we create concepts to justify what we do.

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Ask anyone I've ever met,
I have never been one to dance.
I am clumsy on my feet,
with an awkward balance,
accompanied by an embarrassed blush.

Even though I do not dance,
I envy those who do.
They create art through their movements,
they move without a care of what someone may say,
or what someone may think.

I envy those who dance,
they are so graceful,
it is truly incredible to watch them.
Where I would stumble and trip over my feet,
they glide across the floor without a care.

And when the song ends,
they don't look embarrassed,
they look content with the world.
They look so lively,
as if that was what they were meant to do.

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I hope that one day,
All my hard work,
All the time and soul I’ve put into it,
That the work will pay off,
And my words will be seen.

# data[].attributes.headline
Embrace of Eternal Rest       (50th post)

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Embrace of Eternal Rest       (50th post)

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When I die, let my body lay to rest,
keep it somewhere only we know,
Somewhere that no one can bother and wake me.

Let the moss creep over my bones,
let it replace my ligaments and tendons,
it is my eternal blanket.

Allow water to gather within my chest,
for once, I will be clean of my aching heart.
The water will replace my blood,
it will give new life.

The sun will bleach bones,
and warming what is left,
as if I am just sleeping.

Let me return to our mother Earth,
let her embrace me,
let her take me back home.

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I wonder, what would happen if I was to disappear?
Not forever, just for a few hours,
I do not wish death,
Just to see how much one would care.

I wonder, who would notice?
The person who realizes it’s been a moment since they’ve seen me,
The one who looks and realizes they can’t find me.
What would they do?

I wonder, how long would it take to be noticed?
Even when home, I am more often in my room than anywhere else.
So who is to say, they would notice at all?
Even now as I sit outside,
I wonder when they noticed me out here.

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I need not anything,
for no happiness will it bring.
For something to be good,
it brings about things often misunderstood.

The yin and yang effect,
good comes with the bad, and that is something to accept.
Eternal happiness dulls all life,
for one to be happy, one must have strife.

To have what I desire,
is for my life to become tire.
I am happy with what I've got,
and never that be forgot.

So to answer this question,
I leave this impression.
I am happy with what I possess,
and that is its own bless.

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Mom, dad, I crave our home.

# data[].attributes.body
I too, am hidden.

I am the different sister.
Whispers follow me in the halls
but I hold my head high,
politely smile,
eyes forward,
and walk confidently.

Tomorrow,
I will be leading you,
with confidence and a smile.
Then no one will
whisper about me.

Then,
They will see me,
and understand.

I too, will be found.

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I'm not ready to say it,
not yet,
and maybe not ever.
But I can write it,
even if it's not to you,
I can at least have it somewhere.

The day we stopped talking,
my chest hurt.
I tried my hardest to reach out,
but you never saw any of it.
My messages turned from blue to green.

The day we stopped talking,
I sat in bed and wondered,
what went wrong?
We had been best friends,
but then we were suddenly strangers.
The only difference from when we first met,
memories now hung in my heart and in my head.

The day we stopped talking,
I didn't know what to do.
I had always talked to you when I was confused,
or if I just needed to speak.
Suddenly, I could not speak,
the things I spoke to you would never be repeated to another.
I learned silence that day,
no one will hear me speak the same way.

The day we stopped talking,
I lost another piece of myself,
just as I always do.
Why do I give when I know I'll never see it returned?
I fear one day that I will have given all of myself.

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(Tomorrow's Coral)

I feel it in the way that the last warmth of a sunset gazes out upon the land,
traces of warmth, but still cool as the sun dips down.
It fades as quickly as it came, it lives and dies in only a moment.

I hear it in the crackling of a fire that casts it onto the world,
the warmth it gives on cold days,
it flickers and burns in the eyes of all those around.

I smell it when I wake on a summer morning,
in freshly brewed coffee with a touch of creamer,
in the pancakes I prepare,
in the flowers that bloom.

I taste it with buttercream frosting,
in orange cream bars,
with coffee and laughter,
and in sweet treats.

I see it when the sun reflects in another's eyes,
when the sun casts its dying light onto cream walls,
when the ice cream melts,
and as the light of a dying fire fades.

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Once in your life,
walk with your eyes closed.
Not for any game,
not because anyone said to,
but because you really want to.

Trust yourself,
take the steps,
walk forward,
feel the world,
see it without opening your eyes.

Run your hands across the walls,
feel the fabric of a dress you've never worn,
drag your fingers across your desk,
understand.

Walk with your eyes closed,
take each step with certainty.
Even when you stumble,
when you trip and fall,
or bump into something,
keep going forward.

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Think of everything in your life,
of everyone.
Every person you have left behind,
every person who left you behind.
Think of every last hug,
every last "goodbye,"
of the last time you said "hi."

Think of every argument,
of every screaming match,
of every radio silence,
or of how the tears slipped down their faces.

Think of when you had to let go,
of that memory that slowly faded,
of every forgotten moment,
of memories, you wish you let go.

Think of the last time you sat for a moment,
not to do anything,
but just to sit,
to watch the sun setting.

Think of every sacrifice,
of every smile,
every thank you.

Let the tears well up in your eyes,
let them fall,
let go of your emotions,
let yourself cry,
let yourself mourn.

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My momma always said things come in three.
Death,
Life,
Sickness,
and so on.

If someone you know passes,
expect another two.
Be prepared to mourn.
They might not die in truth,
but some part of them,
or who they were,
will die.

If life enters,
by birth of a child,
the meeting of another,
or taking in someone or something,
be prepared.
It will be joyous,
it will be happy.

Sickness will come,
it will infect one,
and then two more.
In one way or another,
cold, the flu, or other forms.
Be prepared for change.
You either come out stronger than before,
or you will find yourself inflicted with it.

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To whomever I will be,
I doubt you'll look back on me.
I am you,
just as you are me.
The only difference,
you have survived a little longer than I have.

One day,
we will look back on these days,
and we will be proud of who we were.
Proud that we made it as far as we did,
and proud that we have made it even further.

One day,
we will be at peace.
We will know who we are,
why we are,
and what we are.
We will no longer wonder,
no longer lose sleep with questions.

One day,
I will be you,
looking back on this site,
just to cringe at the words,
but we will read them anyway.

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I wish I could say the same,
that I believe that there was a plan,
a plan made just for me.
But it's all really just by chance,
by some twisted fate,
that we are here.
Our lives are not planned by some higher being,
they are what we make them to be,
because it is our actions that lead us to where we are.

Why should I believe,
if there has been nothing to show for believing?
It has been by our own work that we have gotten this far.
For if He exists,
then am I to believe that he is the reason?
The reason that my family has suffered for years?
Tormented by life, by death?

It is by chance that I live,
born alone,
as I shall die alone.

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Behind these closed doors are a mystery,
a part of me that no one gets to see.
My momma always says to keep the doors closed,
what lies behind them remains unexposed.
Just keep this tip to know,
Whatever you may see is not for show.
So if you choose to open them,
be prepared for what comes then.

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Dear reader,
these words are close to my heart,
many about my memories of what once was,
or what just is.
Sometimes, they are what could have been.
Don't worry about me,
through these words, I am free.
Through these words,
I let out all emotion,
just try not to drown in this ocean.
Thank you, dear reader,
for these words are seen, if only by you.

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Maybe there was rhyme or reason as to why they did it,
maybe we just couldn't see it.
What if we were just blind to it?
It could have been something in their mind, their heart, or in the air.
Was it the whispers on the wind?

I guess we may never know why they did it.

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A place I once called home,
but the devil got a foot through the door.
They turned away a poor and starving man,
looked at him with disgust.
They preach about forgiveness, not passing judgement,
the hypocrisy that flows from the tongue poisons the mind.
They fed us sweet honeyed lies that left a bitter aftertaste.

Not a thought passes my mind as we drive by it.
I do not know it anymore.

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Step 1: Let go of the child in you. Leave them behind so that the childness may leave with them.

Step 2: Take on the world. Take it and rest it upon your shoulders, bear the weight without complaint.

Step 3: Remain silent. Do not dignify the childness of others with a response. You are too different.

Step 4: Wipe away the colors of the world. See things in shades of gray or in black and white.

Step 5: Work. Do not rest, there is no time. You must worry about everything, and there is no time for anything else.

Step 6: Never speak of how you feel. If someone asks you how you are doing, just smile and say good. They do not care.

Step 7: Keep your eyes and chin down. To bring them to the sky is to stand out.

Step 8: Be the gifted one. Everyone will expect more of you than others. It will grow dull but keep doing it. They'll be disappointed anyways.

Step 9: Repeat. Life is an endless loop.

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the fear of people and society

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A person who fakes a smile

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Many people feel whole,
their hearts are filled,
desires stilled.
But there are a select few,
those who you barely knew.
They are numb,
not because they are dumb,
but because in the place of a heart is a hole.

This hole sucks out all emotion,
it leaves the body a hollow husk,
its head is empty at dusk.
Not a sliver of feeling sad,
not even a wave of mad,
just an empty ocean.

To be numb is to be less of a person,
to have no feeling
because we know we are not healing.
Our wounds are bleeding,
our logic is leading.
Our emotions are without certain.

In the hole is a void,
it fills up the youth
and it sours any truth.
The truth is that we matter,
our emotions seem to hit the floor with a clatter.
Our scars decorate our skin,
it feels like a sin.
This is something we simply cannot avoid.

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Silence can be so loud,
it can be so proud

But it can also be deafening,
it can be life-threatening

Silence can be something that brings one back,
or it can kill someone for things that they lack

It cradles us in the middle of the night,
holds our thoughts and tries to give light.

It kills you in a crowded room,
for death seems to loom.

Silence means so much to me and you,
it can make your life bright or blue.

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I never knew,
it would be the last time we talked.
I do not truly remember,
but in my heart I do.
I was too young,
I did not understand,
that it would be my last time talking to you.
I have heard so many stories,
I feel as if I've always known you.
The day you died,
I was only two.
But I do know,
I will always love you.

(in reference to my grandfather)

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(This prompt is meant to show what one associates cold water with)

Cold water is a stream in the mountains
as a young girl runs her small fingers through
A call from the mother beckons the child
They must return home
A piece of the girl, a memory of her, is left behind
They won't recall the incident for many years,
the parents have forgotten
But the girl remembers, even if she wonders if it ever happened.

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An outcast among outcasts,
how ironic, isn't it?
Being without a place among those of placelessness.
Even they have a place among the different.
But sometimes, different is too different for them.
I guess I'm a bit more than pleasantly off.

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Monday is filled with dread, for one must get out of bed to face the reality of a never ending cycle. It is long and slow as it drags through the hours.

Tuesday is tragic, it is drained of all magic. The day is better than the previous, only slightly quicker, slightly more alive.

Wednesday brings about hope, for it is as quick as a horse's lope. Quick enough to get you along, but not so fast you miss the small moments.

Thursday holds back a grin, the week so long it feels like it'll never end. It is closer than one might think.

Friday is calm as a young fawn in spring. Sunbathing in the thought of blankets and books.

Saturday means freedom and books about a long-lost kingdom buried 'neath the rubble. But it is quick and fleeting.

Sunday flies by like a bird finally untied. It soars and it's gone in a flash.

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"You can walk into a room and spot them. They seem when you talk to them but every now and again, across the room, you catch them looking off into the distance at an invisible point that maybe, they once reached. They laugh a little different. They hesitate a little more. Now they know what it feels like. And something about their eyes when they listen to music says

'Turn it up until my ears bleed. Let it be the last thing I hear.'"

~Iain S. Thomas

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"Your life will be remembered. You will be reborn on the lips of storytellers. A whispering around a fire. A telling of a tale.
You will become a legend. Then a myth. Then simply an idea.
Ask yourself "What do I want to be remembered for? What idea do I want to become"
Then answer yourself. And do it." ~Iain S. Thomas

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"You know all their stories but none of their stories know you.
And you've felt all their pain but their pain never bothered feeling you.
So you take their medicine. Even though you've had too much medicine" ~Iain S. Thomas

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"But nothing is wasted. There's no song you can listen to, no person you can speak to, no moment it takes to see things as they are that doesn't teach you something.
You need everything you know' ~Iain S. Thomas

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Things better left unsaid; matters to be passed over in silence

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"At some point, you will have done all you can do and then, all that will be left, will be the things you have left undone" ~ Iain S. Thomas