Starlight darkness

That night,
the clouds were so thick in the sky
they refused to let the stars shine
didn't allow a glimmer of hope to sparkle in my eyes
gave me nothing else to wish on.

The lunar tears were obscured from view
and instead reflected in my eyes
so that when I looked at the heavens
they seemed to shimmer.

The moon herself was hidden
wrapped in a blanket of gray precipitation
that hung in the sky like my anticipation
for the day that was to come

because I knew
that in the morning
I would be in mourning.

Preparation for loss
doesn't make the loss easier.
Just as you can build walls and retreat inland
in face of an oncoming wave
but that doesn't mean the tsunami won't hit

I guess it's fitting that the moon hid herself from me
after all, she controls the tides.
So she gives me one night of rest
of relief
of moments too precious to lose
before I had to lose you.

She knew that high tide would come all too soon
and that I'm not very good at keeping my head above water.

So the clouds will move on
and rain down on the mountains of my cheekbones
cutting out river pathways in my skin
streaking towards the ground
the final resting place
of all my memories.

I could say that I love you
but that's not enough.
So all I can do is look in your sweet brown eyes
that only ever trusted me
and tell you that it's okay.
That the warmth you feel is my heartbeat
keeping pace with yours

and when yours stops
mine will have enough strength to persist
for both of us.
So I'll wrap you up in the cocoon of my arms
and keep you safe
as you travel to somewhere
that I have yet to know

Try to be patient
wait for me
I'll be there.
eventually.

Short Attention Span

I listen to their words
the way they become one with the stage
the microphone as an extension of the vibrations of their vocal cords

and I wish my thoughts could fall onto the page
and arrange themselves accordingly
but I succumb to writing A.D.D.
and I write five different things at once
and combine them on the same piece of paper

and maybe why I call it a piece of writing
is that it is not whole. it is not finished.
it is part of something bigger
and it brings me peace.

It soothes the crashing waves in my mind
ideas that pull at the sandy shores of my subconscious
for me, it's always high tide.
and there's new jagged rocks of thoughts to smooth over with repetition.

Calms the voice in my head like usually only music can.
In case you haven't noticed,
I use my middle finger to push my headphones in
so fuck what you say.
I wasn't really listening anyway
and I'm pretty sure I prefer Jack Johnson's philosophy
to yours.

So you can tell me that i'm influenced
by having my thoughts be separate entities
that affect my reality.
No, they define my reality.
How I perceive it, not how it really is.

But I could only look at the world unbiased if I was blind.
Now use your fluffy letters to describe to me how a sunset looks.
How it feels to see a baby smile.
what it's like to watch a flower unfold

But I can still feel the petals
velvet soft in my palm
and maybe if I can't see that roses are red
it won't look like the bushes are bleeding.

Like I said,
writing A.D.D.
So I'll keep moving my fingers as fast as I can
trying to keep up with the rhythm of my mind
and hoping that one day
you, too will feel the beat.

Acceptance.

You can't control the uncontrollable
but that doesn't stop me from trying
or my heart from clenching
or my eyes from crying.

Yet I can't shed the tears
that are stuck in my throat
verbal drops of rain
come out in lines I wrote

on another day
about another time
about the victim's family
of a murderless crime

because death doesn't always stem from murder
although I'm pretty sure part of me just died.
or at least that's how I interpret
these feelings that just won't subside
I wish to be rid of them;
believe me, I've tried
because whoever said it's better to have loved and lost
well, they lied.

Losing who you love
is a pain that is beyond words.
beyond measure
beyond impulses in your nerves

reflexes that tell you to pull your hand away
from something that burns
simply can't respond
to life's emotional turns

So instead we take the lemons of lessons we're given
to make lemonade- and we learn.

But you can't learn how to ease the clenched fist grip
on your vital organs
your heart
your stomach
your lungs
you want to speak out
but only taste numbness on your tongue

it's nearly impossible to function
until you remember to breathe
sobbing, heaving, hysterical gasps
when you're reminded
that this life
never lasts.

It's the loss of potential
the weight of things unsaid
that make me crazy
being locked up in my head.

things you'll never hear again
like "I love you"
because there's nothing else to say
that would ring so true.

But I feel like i'm going mad
because I can't remember
the last time I hugged you
possibly june, and now it's december?

So while you can't hear my voice
I hope that you know
I'm so happy I had you there
to support me and watch me grow
and I send my love with you
wherever you may go.

Missing you.

I'm always missing someone.
Just when I've got it all figured out
there's a person I've left behind.

Not by choice.
Not willingly.
but it just... happened.

Like so many other things in this life that just.... happen.
And so many others that just don't.

But i'm tired of leaving people behind.
Friends and family.
sisters, related and discovered.

Maybe humans are destined to be lonely
loved and comforted
but alone.

save for those lucky moments when we're surrounded
by those who really care about us.

but someone will always be left out.
be left behind.
so I guess we just have to pick up the rest of the pieces
and let the rest of life
just.... happen.

Normal

In case you don't already know this
I'm superwoman.

No, seriously.
I have the cape and everything.
It's a bright red cape that I like wearing out
on random occasions
my most recent outing to look super?
Trader Joe's.
complete with a black t shirt and a rhinestone pink studded S on the front.
and my screaming fire engine truck red cape.
that I wear in public.
Just because I can.

I saw someone I knew
while pushing my super shopping cart
down aisle 5
and they laughed nervously, as though my sanity was questionable
based on the fact that I was draped in a cape
and asked
"why aren't you normal?"

Normal?
the definition for normal is "conforming to the standard or the common type."
synonym: the average, or mean.

Well I've never been mean
and I was always taught to achieve above average.

but you're talking about normal.
to me.

we live on a ball of molten rock
covered in water and dirt
that is spinning and spinning and spinning
around a giant ball of FIRE.
and you... want to talk to me about normal?

Yes, that makes sense.
because I can walk outside
and see a tiny wormlike caterpillar
that should stay looking like a fuzzy version of my pinky finger
but no
it gorges itself on the energy around
and wraps itself so tight in a cocoon
and REARRANGES IT'S BODY PARTS
and so this tiny little line of black fur
emerges
with delicate wings
so thin that they break if they're touched
but those wings
bear our little caterpillar to the sky
bright blue, shimmering wings
that looks like a piece of the ocean took flight.
and yet, you're standing here talking to me about normal

as one of my peers
you of all people shouldn't want to talk about normal
our generation is better at talking through keyboards and LED screens
than actually holding a face to face conversation
I mean
look at you right now.
you're awkward standing here talking to me
because I don't fit into your definition
of "normal".

Please tell me one person
whose name appears on the pages of a history book
who was called "normal" during their time.
Was Dr. King normal? Was ghandi normal? Aristotle, Julius Cesear, Jane Goodall, Pablo Picasso, Frida Khalo, Barack motherfucking Obama?!
they broke the mold
but who says there is a mold?
everyone is hand crafted
there is no mold
unless you're talking about last week's lunch in the back in the back of your fridge
in which case I can't help you
they were out of the ordinary
extra-ordinary
and I'm not saying that I'll achieve as much as they have
all I'm saying

is you might want to think about your definitions
before you try to define me.

Self Confidence

Start off the night
I know how to do it right
Looking my best
Mmm, I’m gonna turn heads tonight

Doing what I do
Out on the dance floor
Chillin on the wall a while
Or grabbin another drink
It doesn't matter
I know how to move with style

All the girls here can relate
To this next bit
Often found but preferably avoided
The boy with a pick up line.
Did it hurt? When you fell from heaven.
No, but this rejection might sting a little.

It’d be nice to hear
Just a simple introduction
A handshake
Or if you’re like me
A high five
And some simple conversation
No flare
No distractions
Just
You.

I've heard it all.
But last night,
I heard something
That made me stop
And take a good, long, second look.

I had a girl tell me
That she wished she had my self confidence.
Not any particular asset
She wanted to mimic the way I held myself
Presented my outer image
To the other slightly evolved chimpanzees at the party.

And I thought to myself
You want
To have been through all the shit
That has turned me into who I am?
Are you sure about that?
You should be careful what you wish for.

Let’s take it back a minute,
Do me a favor and hit rewind
Let me delve into
The memories of my mind

Back to the one place
I never want to go back to
Where I just wanted to be cool.
Yeah. High school.

You’re telling me that back then
You wanted to be surrounded by girls
That you couldn’t avoid
Because you were on the same sports team

Who constantly told me I wasn’t good enough
I wasn’t pretty enough
I was too “nerdy” because I preferred reading a book
Over fucking a boy in the backseat of a car.
Girls that would act like I was their friend
As a joke.
They knew it was funny to make me feel good about myself
But I never understood the punch line.

You’re telling me that you wanted to work as hard as you could
To get nothing but mocking laughter and a permanent bench seat
To come home crying so many times that it was a mark of a good day
If you could make it home without tearing up
You wanted to be disregarded, disrespected, discouraged from being yourself
You wanted to be dismissed like you were some kind of disease?
No, you don’t want that.
I didn’t either.

But


I learned to take it all in stride
I found some part of me
That knew
Who I was
And I hung on to that notion
Like it was my tether to land
And I was drowning, all alone,
in a sea of plastic girls.
Just trying to keep my head high.

It was a scene cut straight out of mean girls
But I wasn’t in the “in” crowd
I was subject to their rule, their twisted hierarchy
That was built on boobs, boys, and booze
Somebody yell cut, please
I don’t want to be cast as this part
And I’ve never been a very good actress anyways.


So, no
You don’t want my self confidence.
You don’t want to have rely on your mother
Who tucked your hair back when you cried
And father, who always said he was proud
So much that you got used to it
Until one night, you realized what he was saying.

You don't want to have your parents have to stand by, helpless
and watch you fall apart
From words like venom
That was injected straight into your heart
And coursed through your veins
Parents that couldn’t do anything
Because those girls were already too poisonous for the antidote.

You don’t want to sit alone in the corner
Texting other friends
Who have to reassure you that “they’ll get theirs”
And “they’ll get paid back by karma”
And to “be the bigger person”

Trying to tell me what I couldn’t accept
That I was beautiful, in more ways than I could understand
But I was drowning in peer pressure
And their voices were lost among the crashing waves.

Eventually, the storm passed.
I could haul myself back to shore
And hear what they were telling me.
But the storm passed while I was still surrounded by things like
“Ohmyfucking god Kayla, I have to tell you what happened this weekend with that boy"
"aaaah! You’re such a slut!”
I wish I was exaggerating.
But this was the kind of thing that poured down on me like rain.

And my umbrella that blocked it all out
became the idea
That my self worth is not based on other’s opinions
Damn.
That is pretty deep for a 16 year old girl.

But when I found that seed of an idea
It took root, it took hold
Until I had vines and leaves and flowers
Of self assurance
Radiating from my fingertips.

So now
When the media tries to feed me the mindset
That has been mass produced, reproduced, and introduced
In to the minds of girls
through the pictures of women that supposedly define “beauty”
Who look nothing like you.

I don’t pay attention.

Because
some girls can’t fit into a size zero
and some girls don't want to plaster on make up
so that they don’t even resemble or remember themselves
clogging their pores, the skin’s way to breathe
with the thought that
they’re not good enough.
They don’t live up to the ridiculous standards
That are honestly
So fucking stupid.

So, no, you don’t want my self confidence.
Yes, I believe I am beautiful and I have finally made peace with the body I see in the reflection of my bedroom mirror.
But
No, you don't want my self confidence.
You want your own self confidence.
And honestly, it’s not that hard.
If you could see yourself as I do
You would understand
That you
Just you
Nothing else added
You
Are breath-takingly beautiful.

And never, ever, let anyone tell you otherwise.

Pants.

I have a message for all the girls
Forgive me if I start to rant
But you really need to know
That leggings are not. Pants.

All I’m trying to say is
If I can see the details
Of your derriere
You might want to rethink
Your choice of what to wear.

I’m speaking from a perspective
Of not being a boy
And I’m well aware
That they enjoy
The way you walk by
Swinging your hips
To work what your momma gave you
But your momma didn’t teach you
How to dress
Just so you could walk out the door
All dolled up- but pantsless.

Unless you’re trying to attract attention
By showing what you’d look like
In some skimpy, shiny, slippery piece of spandex
Also known as panties from Victoria’s secret
Just so you know, I AM Victoria
And my secret
To encourage the infatuation
Is that I keep my assets covered
So to leave something up to the imagination

But if semi naked is the look you’re going for,
Why not just walk around in lingerie?
I’m sure the boys wouldn’t object to that
If you’ve got it, flaunt it
Or so they say.
Since when did all a girl have to show off
Become how low her shirt dips
Or how tight her jeans are?

Why do we, as women, walk around without pants?
Is it really that cutthroat in the female world that we’re now forced
To reduce the amount of clothes we put on?
If we’ve evolved to sexual attraction combat
My response is two words:
Fuck. That.

Who you are lies beneath the layers of cotton
And eyeliner
And mascara
And blush
And foundation
That you put on
In such a rush
To make sure that the face you present to the world
Is flaw free.
But it is in your flaws
That lies your beauty.

So, to the women, not the girls
I have a message
For you to own your identity
With pride
And take the glares and snide comments
All in stride
Because they will come
By the hundreds
To those who hold their heads high
And don’t feel the need
To be draped in lace
To feel sexy

So next time you hear the music
Where rappers bust out lines
About big booty bitches
And other testosterone induced chants
Remember that you are unforgettable
And in loving yourself
You can still turn heads and break necks
While wearing pants.

Momentary freedom

An explosion of sounds
vibrating your eardrums
shaking your chest
till your fingertips go numb

a deep heavy bass
rivaling a rave
thumps out of your center
locked inside a ribs' cage

in response, extremities tingle
singing a sweet soprano
never having experienced
the feeling they now know

it's electric and shivering
a back pressed to a sheet of steel
shaking your legs until
you have to kneel

pulsating, pressure filled perfection
uncontrollable and uncontainable
a simple, scintillating sensation
found to be self sustainable

in toes, feet
fingers and hands
when a mind is allowed
to fully expand.

It's a million colors
all swirling together
in on perfect moment;
a mind without its tether

Translation

I miss the feel of a pen
between my fingers
the translator of my mind
that makes me feel free
helps my thoughts unwind.

This keypand under my fingertips
is lifeless and cold
it gives no personality
to the story being told

I used to be able to flourish
to scribble and cross out
now the backspace bar
lets me erase my doubts

leaving no proof
of any mistakes made
as though my mind
was basking in the shade

of its own glory and skills
that cast a shadow
so vast and impressive
that nothing else can grow

yet my musings are just flowers
or maybe even weeds
readily basking in the sun
telling me their needs

to grow roots
to make a base
so the leaves can flourish
at their own pace

or to set seeds
and spread themselves thin
like a wildfire of greenery
blooms heard above the din

of silence so fragile
it is easily broken
by my words, written
and until now, unspoken

Afterlife and Afterdeath

Is this it?
There has to be something more
that what I see and hear.
Give me something to live for

Don't be mistaken:
Death does not beckon me
but I feel no fear
for the unknown journey
taken by those so dear

To me, and all others
We know grief too well
As a friend who tries to comfort us
but instead, gives us hell.

Emerging the other side
after so much crying
and hiding from eyes
so curious and prying

No longer wracked
by sadness, coming in waves
as we hold on to our tiny boats
and gaze upon the ocean of graves

So now, tell me why
we don't capsize
into the churning dark water
what have we realized?

Perhaps the idea
that we will return
to happiness, to joy
to love, to learn

encourages perseverance
so we hold the rope
that ties us to humanity
known, in words, as hope.

Cityscape

Giant glass windows
and sharp corners
pierce the sky
and beckon to foreigners

who wander the streets
cameras in hand, mouth agape
in awe of the buildings
and the skies they scrape

a world filled with cigarette smoke
and eighty story mirrors
that become less impressive
as you get nearer

to the tragic truth
that lies within the lack of green
money is abundant
but flowers remain unseen.

We suffocate ourselves
with our own pollution
that shall remain
lest we create a revolution.

Remembering to Breathe

Occasionally,
I forget how to breathe
How to sit quietly
and let my mind seethe

Against all the walls I've put up
by my others' volition, or my own
I'm never completely sure
When I find myself alone

When light dissolves
into a starlight sky
when hands grow cold
after waving goodbye

When all has been said
but nothing has been done
and the mischief makers
have had their fun

When silence falls
like a blanket of snow
on the tips of mountains
and into the valleys below

When my only companion
is my own mind
My thoughts and my words,
no longer confined

Behind cold metal bars
so strict and unrelenting
Unless the fire's heat
lets them resume their lamenting

for the caged birds
locked in my head
until they are either
written or said.

So for now, I calmly sit
and take my reprieve
from daily life
and remember to breathe.

Take me away

Take me.
Take me away
where the minutes blend
into days.

Where I don't hear the rush
of cars in the street
drivers too intent on destinations
to acknowledge their feet

Take me away to the jungle
where the tall trees block out the sun
yet the earth is warm with life;
damaged by none.

Out into the savannah,
so wide and vast
with threatening creatures
lurking in the grass

Or to the ice,
where I can slide in the snow
like an awkwardly large penguin
there's no limit to where we can go

Take me away
from the city lights
from the empty buildings
and the noisy nights.

Disruptions of the brain

There are times
when words in my head
don't seem to match
the ones that are read

by those who are willing
to take the time
to immerse themselves
in my flow, my rhyme

the errant ideas
that set me apart
are nothing more
than words of my heart

the vibrations of my soul
that speak to you
in whatever way
they decide to

Make believe reality

Warning: This poem is kinda sugary sweet and gross but I felt that it needed to be shared with all of you. Enjoy!


I'll be a bond girl
if you can be double oh seven
We'll defeat evildoers
and make our own heaven

If you can be tarzan
I'll be jane
We'll live in the jungle
king and queen of our domain

If you call yourself Tristan
I'll call myself isolde
without the poison, or death
until our story is fully told

I'll say that I'm bonnie
If you say you're clyde
We'll be outlaws in each others' arms
and it'll be one hell of a ride.

I'll be the cleopatra
to your anthony
We'll walk like egyptians
and live in harmony

I wouldn't say I'm barbie
If you wanted to be ken
that's only because I hate her
but I'd let you try again

I'll dance with you as Ginger Rogers
If you twirl as Fred Astaire
We can dazzle the world
with out wit and our flair

I'll be Pocahontas
to your John Smith
We can create legends
stronger than myths

You can be my knight, my Lancelot
and I'll be your damsel, your Guinevere
Rescue me from myself
where we can live without fear

Or you can say you're you.
and I can say I'm me.
Names don't matter much
if you and I become a "we".

Inspired

My brain is buzzing with inspiration
Yet my brow is sans perspiration
I seem to have lost my dedication
As to why, I haven't the slightest inclination.

In Honor of Boobquake

Boobquake: it all got started by this quote...

"Many women who do not dress modestly ... lead young men astray, corrupt their chastity and spread adultery in society, which (consequently) increases earthquakes," Hojatoleslam Kazem Sedighi was quoted as saying by Iranian media. Sedighi is Tehran's acting Friday prayer leader.

Yes, because women's curves are at fault for leading men astray and corrupting them.
ONE WOMAN started boobquake- a day where women in support of it wear low cut/revealing shirts to see if it will really start an earthquake.

To me, the irony here is that the earth itself resembles a woman's body. The natural curves of the landscape, the peaks of mountain ranges that leave us breathless- that is true natural beauty. The female body is the human version of a breath taking landscape.

We should be able to be proud of our bodies without being accused of "corrupting" anyone's chastity.

We are strong and empowered women- see our cleavage and hear us roar.

Lost and Found

It seems to me
that everyone else
is simply trying
to find themselves.

There are days
and especially nights
where I want to lose myself
among long roads and city lights

Maybe the question
is not of lost and found
but what we hear
when there is a lack of sound

We do not discover ourselves
we, instead, are creating
the self we will become;
there's no point in waiting

Seize the day while it remains yours
For if it passes you by
you will have no tears of hope
left for you to cry.

Clarity

I've discovered that if I sit close enough to the rush
it drowns out everyone's voice but my own.
In the ensuing and eerie hush
I find simple comfort in being alone.

I fade into the background,
A skill I learned over the years
I seek security in the lack of sound,
and a lack of judgment from my peers.

The path is clear
I'm ready for the ride
yet I always find difficulty
when unsure of the other side.

I have begun the return to my center
my mind is open, but I have yet to enter.

Kneeling

All our lives,
we become strong.
We hide our vulnerability
at being mistaken; being wrong.

Yet you hear one voice
saying to set yourself free
become uninhibited;
fall to your knees

See the world through a child's eyes
if it suits you, pray.
Feel small again
discover the meaning of today.

Ask for forgiveness,
or for someone to spend their life with you
show respect and loyalty
or fall apart from all you've been through.

Knowingly let judgement be passed
in your vulnerable state
trust in those around you
else lose all faith

Let yourself fall,
let yourself feel
nothing more than the truth
set aside your pride and kneel.




(Originally written 7/27/2008)

The Secret Flower

The secret is encased
in a delicate green shell
where protection leads to mystery
and tiny dewdrops dwell

Slowly, the bud opens
peeking through known security
Innocence is shed, not taken
as it realizes its physicality

The bud, now a flower
unfurls in the sun
petals firm but soft
tell of what has begun

Vivid red petals
streaked with white
meet the day with joy
and hesitantly, the night

It sways gently
calmed by trust
grown with love
and nurtured by lust

Youth is lost;
experience is gained
peaceful and beautiful
true potential attained.



(Originally written 11/6/2009)

Elements of Self

I'm lost in the present
the moment between my future and past
searching, searching, searching
For a feeling that won't last

I hear the gentle wind
the soft whisper in my ear
it tells me to be light and carefree
to embrace courage in the face of fear

I smell the perfume of life;
the pungent scent of the earth
telling me to be solid and constant
to ignore others when discovering my worth

I taste the misty rain
the cold, bittersweet tang
reminding me to persevere;
to embrace my yin as well as yang

I feel the heat of the flames
The warmth that caresses my skin
pushing me to achieve my potential
to use my core, the strength within

I become silent, but I can't find my inspiration
I breathe the cold air, but I can't find my dedication
I taste the rain, but I can't find my determination
I stand near the fire, but I can't find my motivation

I look into myself
Searching for the light
which pushes me to love
and it all seems right.



(Originally written 6/2/2009)

Sunrise, Sunset

I do not dream or live
in shades of gray,
I admire the ever changing sunrise;
The beginning of each day.

I thrive in a world
filled with light:
thoughts and color
have never seemed so bright.

I look on with awe
at the stories behind a rainbow;
a smile within the sky
to be swallowed with sunset's glow

While I am a daughter of the moon,
I am a lover of the sun;
When surrounded by the twinkling stars
I find my heart coming undone.

At the top of the world

I've stood on top of the world
surrounded by silence
watching each person
slowly build their own fence

Walls to separate
and barriers to divide
barring the unknown
and protecting their pride

Lacking incentive to expand
or even to explore
the great mysteries
just outside their door

Searching for answers,
but asking the wrong being:
looking with their eyes
without truly seeing

Solutions are apparent-
when not fixating on pain
they show themselves,
clear and refreshing as rain

I do not assure you
I've found anything new
Only that I've learned to look
and I love the view

Thriving in the land down under!

Australia is beautiful.
There is so much life here... the jungle isn't a place to visit on the weekend or a distant location. It's literally right outside my door.
Green is everywhere. Bright colored birds only seen in books and documentaries are commonplace.

The flowers that are mimicked by the fashion industry actually exist here. The nature that humans try to interpret and capture with art, photography, and other forms of self expression is just the norm here.

It rains all the time, bringing and sustaining life. It's always humid and moist; full of life. The sky is not a deep blue, but more of a soft periwinkle that winks at people in between breaks of clouds.
This is the stuff of story books and fairy tales... only it's real.

I love it all. The sounds, the smells, the feel of warm rain on my skin, all the sights that are much too much for me to take in at once.

New Mentality

Originality
is meant to be treasured.
Although I'm still unsure
how it should be measured.

Are you listening?

Are you out there?
Can you hear me?
If you're looking,
What do you see?

If I were a raven.

If I were a raven,
I would spread my wings wide
Let the wind lift me
and take to the sky

If I were a raven,
I would keep to the shadows
Sing to the music of darkness-
the sweetest songs I know

If I were a raven,
I would watch the world unwind
As people love, hate, and grow
and keep close with those of their kind.

If I were a raven,
I would call out to the moon
A harsh cry of mystery
To the stars, randomly strewn

If I were a raven,
I would make a home in the tallest tree
Away from the world, so questioning
Where I could simply be.

Springtime

Gentle buds of jasmine cover the ground like snow
Soft star shaped tears of joy and woe

Flowers from the sidewalk tucked in her hair
The sweet white blossoms perfume the air

Her golden braid loops and flows
Hiding secrets only she knows

Butterflies dance around her ears-
Curious whispers are all she hears

Apprehension

Little people
in little cars
traveling to places
near, and far.
Each bearing
their own scar
each just trying
to pass the bar.

The silent watcher
is none other than me
and I'm still waiting
to see
What we all will be
and if
we truly are free.

It is upon these thoughts
I dwell
although time will truly tell
If things will turn out well
or if we will each create
our own hell.

Lonely Girl

Little white threads
trace a path
from her ears
to her hands

She looks out the window
seemingly detached
from the world,
blurred by mist

Absentmindedly tracing
the shape of a heart
with the back of her knuckle
up, in, out, down.

Again and again,
lost in her own world
the same simple pattern
up, in, out, down.