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My DreamsEveryone has dreams, right?
At least I always though so
I always believed I was weird
Just different in some way
That I didn't have dreams
Somehow, some way
I could not see
That I did have dreams
Not to be an actor
or a football player
or some successful businessman
No... I dream of simpler things
I dream dreams of love
Dreams of happiness
I dream of family
HopeA subject devoid my presence
Or so it seems to those around me
At least in recent months
But I write this now
For anyone willing to read
Willing to listen to me
Hope has yet to be abandoned by me
It flows through me still
But I'm aware now
That it must be cared for
Not only more, but better
So I ask all those listening...
Hold me accountable for my promise
To let myself hope
Now, more than ever
InsomniaThe days and nights are long
Slow moving and painful
Constantly looking for hope
That this will be the day
Or this will be the night
That you get some sleep
And not the normal kind
Not that wake up every 90 minutes crap
Or the two to four hours a night sleep
No, meaningful sleep
Sleep that makes you feel rested
Sleep that keeps you happy
But even with all that hope
Nothing comes of it
You stare at the ceiling
Thinking and thinking
It lasts for hours you think
But it’s only been 5 minutes
Your thoughts get darker, crazier
Every second you remain conscious
And eventually the time comes
After all the new scars are created
After all the agony of waiting
After you finally reach the point of hopelessness
You pass out, get your needed but restless sleep
Then you wake and repeat it all again
CalmIt’s dark out at this time
3:06 in the morning
I’m standing at the beach
Off the surface of the water
The cold air rushes in
Goosebumps spread across my body
I’m cold, freezing really
But I’m not headed anywhere
Not soon anyway
Why am I even down here?
My house, the warmth it provides
Not more than 10 minutes away
And yet still I don’t move
Unsure as to why
I just keep staring into the darkness
Listen to the silence surrounding me
Physically I am miserable
But emotionally… and spiritually
I am filled with a quiet calm
I can feel Your presence
Why do You have me here?
I could come here any time
So why now?
Whatever Your reason, I am here
Perhaps I am here to pray
That’s what I will do
Thank you for this
This period of calm
Questions of the PastDid you ever take the time
To realize I hadn’t lied
That your friendship is needed
And something I would fight for
Did you ever take the time
To realize that you had failed to see
And I had failed to show
The bigger picture I was looking at
Did you ever take the time
To realize what you mean to me
And think about reaching back
To reclaim what was lost
Did you ever take the time
To realize I would never give up
That I would hope forever
That you would return
BlankMy mind is blank
My head is overloaded
Overloaded with thoughts about so many things
School, finding a job, hopes, dreams, love
So much to think about that my brain has given up
Hopefully I can relax soon
Get the thoughts out of my head
I want to return to myself
Hopeful and romantic
A motivated dreamer
News WomanTo the woman on the news
Who shall remain nameless
To prevent you from further shame
For you should feel ashamed of yourself
To you, the woman who refused adamantly
To address the terrorist as a human being
You disgust me
Who are you to sit in that chair
To tell the masses you know what being human is
You call yourself a Christian
You claim to worship the same God as me
And yet you sit on your throne of media supremacy
Judging what it is to be human
Like you know better than the Creator, Himself
Do you mean to tell me
That when that man was put here
God looked at him and thought
“He’s not human”?
I can agree this man has done bad things
Horrible, atrocious things
But the judgment of whether he is human,
It is not yours to give
Lovely SoulFor a lovely soul, I’ll follow forever
A soul that shows kindness
A soul that is a beacon of hope
A soul that possesses a heavenly beauty
A soul that’s willing to listen
A soul that can both lead and follow
A soul that shines bright through the eyes
For you have a lovely soul, I’ll follow you forever
ArtistryHave you ever read something,
Or seen or heard something
That is created so elegantly
Yet lacks the ability to make you feel?
Is it because “art is in the eye of the beholder”?
Or was it just made by a man feigning artistry?
Someone who articulated a thought well
Created a piece that lacked identity
Because they lack the ability
To put a piece of themselves in their work
Are they really an artist?
What is an artist if not us?
Those who can bear their soul
Completely and shamelessly
In every work they produce.
A message to the brokenYou drown yourself
in liquid sorrows,
letting the salty mess
burn your wounds,
and the sadness
to drip in your mouth,
consuming your words
and you say
you deserve the pain,
but I want to dry your face,
and whisper in your ear
how the clouds cry too,
while they hold such beauty,
and so do you.
Stand Against SuicideI know the pain is perhaps unbearable,
But darling, please put down the blade.
Release your emotions through tears and smiles,
Rather than dreading these days.
Do it for the little girl, whose mother can’t be there,
Or for the boy whose father drank too much.
For the boy who can’t sit in elementary school,
Because the bruises from Daddy hurt to touch.
For the teenage girl lying face down in her bed,
Thinking, why can’t it all be done?
For the elderly man looking up at the stars,
Counting the days one by one.
Do it for the children who wonder, does it end?
For the ones who feel left on their own.
For the ones who think, maybe it wouldn’t be so hard
If I didn’t feel so left alone.
And finally, do it for one other person,
The person in front of these words.
Because you’ll never know how it gets better
When focusing on pain and hurt.
Live one more day, dear, for them and for you,
And I swear to you, problems will fade.
I know, for right now, it’s p
It's Okay to be ImperfectThe moon
Pretty metaphors are for pretty girlsI told you to stop
spewing pretty metaphors at me,
for with each elaborate comparison,
I feel a bit more
detached from this world
And maybe I don’t feel so strong at the moment,
but would you be
if you felt like the entire universe
was resting upon your shoulders,
and someone was just there saying:
But you’re stronger than the powerful beats
of a butterfly’s wings
And maybe I do need more confidence,
but would you exuberate it
when the part you hated most about yourself
were the freckles that have speckled your face for years,
and someone was just there muttering:
They’re not flaws,
but rather stars that form constellations
Yes, I can’t help but hate
all those unrealistic metaphors
you choose to pelt at me when I’m low,
yet the irony is,
I know that those beautiful words
are realistic in your eyes,
So I can’t hate you.
Clear WristA clear wrist, barren of scars,
as opposed to skin sauntered in marks,
tells a trickier story than it's soiled and raw,
uncaring, unkempt counter part.
Bravery, I think it holds,
the strength to bare unimaginable loads
of pain and suffering through endless times,
and withstanding the agony of sleepless nights.
Some think it is fear, the reluctance to cut,
but I believe it opposite, it show courage and guts.
To bear your pain without a nick on your wrist,
is like a solider braving his terrain while being torn limb from limb.
Agonizing as it is, to hide your pain,
you do it so well, and no attention you'll gain.
At the end of the day, it's not cry for attention,
rather a cry for the victory that's silently mentioned.
Your scars are those not self inflicted,
and despite the gnawing intention,
to harm yourself and ease your pain,
the scars you earn are rightfully gained.
In a room of those who have jumped the gun,
and left traces of blood deep in their arms,
do not be tempted to do the sam
dark circlesi haven't slept well in 14 days
my eyes droop pretty colors
'50 shades of purple and grey,
they're bags and they're designer'
making jokes is how i cope
with chapped lips and constant chap-stick
it tastes like honey and mint
i laugh and say i'm addicted.
hooded lids and sleepy smiles
during lunch at subway
my friends ask if I'm okay
I say that I'm just tired.
but really when I see him with her
my heart sinks to the tiles
she's pretty and witty and sure as hell she can sing
and i'm just a loud bone-collector.
when I see her with him,
dancing and laughing and grinning,
the ring on her finger
laughs at my singularity.
for as much as i lie and as much as i try
my loneliness still creeps in,
because no matter how much they protest,
i'm still the lowly fifth-wheel.
walking behind them on sidewalks
that are wide, but built for four
smiles and laughs when they look back
but the frown creeps evermore.
pelvis peaks through paper-thin skin
and knuckles white and pale
my ribs are empty, my bo
All Here For A ReasonI turned onto a shady, well-manicured driveway that, for all intents and purposes, looked harmless enough. Maple trees lined both sides of the street, and a parade of Canadian geese marched across the road to a wide duck pond with a flamboyant fountain. There were blooming crepe myrtles and rose-of-sharons, and as I grew closer to my destination, neatly trimmed gardens with neatly trimmed bushes.
I stopped to let the geese pass. They looked at me; one hissed. I honked my horn and moved around them.
At the end of the road sat a collection of grayish buildings and a number of signs directing me to the appropriate parking lot. "Welcome to Ten Creeks Hospital," said one of them. "Please enjoy your stay." I parked in the visitor's lot. Surely I wouldn't be staying.
I was shaking when I got out of my car. I had spent the morning getting high. One foot in front of the other, flip-flop noises, hot sidewalk. Mulberry and magnolia trees, freshly shaved grass. A bench and pan for smokers. A set o
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