PatiencePatience is perfect.Patience is pure.Patience endures.
Love is RareStardust sprinkles,across the land,as she takes his hand.
Where Dreams Live PeacefullyThrough a river,and across a stream,lies a dream.
Rivers of PeaceI write about the stars,and beyond.I sing for the skies,and the swans.For the ponds of peace,and the rivers of love,come from above.
Living for SmilesWe live for smiles,that go on for miles.
FramesPictures press,against bleak walls,as I fall.
QuestsDreams are quests, too.
HorizonsPain broadens our horizons.
Dreams Last ForeverDreams last forever.They won’t depart,from our hearts.
stardust. (you're beautiful)he'sout of orbit -interstellar spacedust in hisveins rise andfall witheach word thatdrips and poolsbeneath hishoneyed tongue;silenceis betweenhis knuckle-bones,sharp anddefined like theribcage of ababy bird, hismazarine eyeswere not made forthis earth butfor the stars.andsome days hefades in andout of reality likehe never reallywanted to be thereat all.on those daysi just thinkmy god, you really don'trealise how amazing you are.
Little GirlThere sits the girl with the things in her eyesMonsters, destruction, and sweet butterfliesHopscotch and daisies, surrounded by screamsBeautiful dresses now torn at the seamsCrayons and paintbrushes, villains and grinsYoung, gladsome innocence, hatred and sinsLittle red houses on roads left to fadeGorgeous moonlight shining off of the bladeBlood pouring out as she cries her own nameKnowing she's forced to take each bit of blameShe could have stopped it and left it behindAll of these things in her troubled young mindShe could have saved them if she dared to tryRather, though, she left herself there to die.Now, others watch as she sits on the groundKeeping their distance and letting her drownIn her own worries and things she won't tellWaiting for her mind to kill her as well.
your poemyou tell me on a thursday that you can’t findthe god inside of yourself anymore, thatyou think that you are finallytoo much honeycomb and not enough humanbecause lately everything has been slippingthrough your fingers, and you don’t know how you cankeep holding yourself together anymore.if today is the day that you lookat the stars and you no longerfeel their burn beneath your bones,i will show you the blanket i tried to makewhen i was eight, and i will tell you all i knowabout the string theory, which isn’t much, i admit,but i do know the basics,and that’s that everything in the universeis composed of strings that somehowloop onto each other infinitely.so whenever you feel like you’rewalking a tightrope without a safetynet below you, know that you arethousands of tightropes strung together,and one fall will not kill you.i have never told you about the wayi can feel my pulse skitter to a stopin my wrists whenever i hear you laughing
Depression Isn't RealDepression isn’t true, my dearDepression isn’t real.It’s just a silly tragedyYou’ve forced yourself to feel.Anxiety is fake, my friendYou wonder why it’s there.But others have it worse than you!Stop forming false despair.Cutting is dramatic, love,It’s ugly, and it’s dumb.Why not just get over it?Is the attention fun?Suicide is stupid, dear,And selfish, if I may.Get over yourself, darling,Can you hear these things I say?Why aren’t you replying, love?Oh, where could you have gone?I never meant to hurt you, love,Did I say something wrong?Why aren’t you replying, dear?Depression isn’t true!…Oh, but yes it was, “my dear”...Just maybe not for you.
it's okay to not be okaysometimes it’s okayto sit on the floor of the bathroom stalland let your feelings gather- it’s okayto let them pool like a lachrymose lagoonas the inside of your stomach does summersaults;I know these emotions can’t be tenderly released,they’re not soft waves kissing the expecting shore,let them pour out of you like tidal waves-release the tsunami from within you and I know sometimes the tears will sodden your pillowcase,they’ll be juggernauts- those brackish beadscathartically-cartwheeling down your flushed cheeks;but remember how even the cloudsmay cry tempestuously today,only to make roomfor much brighter daysso I promise you, darling it’s going to be okay.
An Angel's Promise'Thou art mine,And so thou shall remain.'I will not let you have any other before me, Nor can there be any after.For it is your soul that I have shared And it is your soul that I do take.Your worship is the blood that flows through me.Your praise is the heart that pumps life into my veins.I have accepted that which is torn;And if you are not whole before me,Then by my will and word,You shall be made whole.So fear not this frigid world,Though its cold bites deeply into your flesh.I shall take that which has been torn from youAnd weep life into it,Until only warmth remains.For thou art already mine,And so thou shall remain.
For My PeopleAs far as I can recall:I did not ask to be birthedInto a cycle of stagnation.I did not ask to be told,That my dreams are achievable;Only to see them limited by the scope of reality.I did not ask for a failing system,Passed unto me by half-dead corpses wearing suits.Nodding eagerly at one another,As they wait for an inevitable death.This I did not ask for,And I am certain that most of you did not either.But it is for that reason,And for that reason alone, I say:That it is up to us,We siblings bound by the chains of our forefathers,To create a system that is better,Than the bitter shackles of the past.Justice is what I long for.Justice for MY people.
To the Struggling ChristiansMy cross broke the other day,snapped off of the chain,and nearly rolled away.I caught it in my hands,though it nearly slipped throughmy fingerslike tiny grains of sandI'm a college student.I attend a public school,Nine hours away from homeand my faith too.There's no emphasis on Catholicism,no morning prayers through the Saints.No “Our Father” to guide me,no Mary to keep me through the day.In fact it's the opposite,grace comes in the form of drugs.The new morning prayersare deadly smoke to lungs.I've never had a problem with Sexuality,you know me.You can tell this by looking through my old poetry.Though what I cannot standis when you feel the need,to invalidate one's Christianitybecause of your sexuality.They're giving me reasons not to believe,in long list like shopping recipes.Telling me what I already know,begging me to tell God to go.It's not easy to keep your faith,when people are giving you reasonsto throw it away.Though I'm lucky I sup
a list of things colleges don't want to know1. i have a cactus named atticus that i boughton the day i thought i was going to die,and i never forget to water it, noteven when i forget how it feelsto breathe without my lungs rebellingagainst my brain.2. sometimes talking feels like walking on gravelin a Georgian summer heat.i try to keep talking anyway,and hope that eventuallymy voice will lose its softness and grow calluses.3. once, a man whistled at meoutside of a grocery store fromthe safety of his car.four years later, i still haven’t stopped lookingover my shoulder.4. i drive too fast and i take turns too sharplyand i never put enough sugarin my tea and i could probably surviveon watermelon alone. i’m left handedand once taught myself to write only in capitalletters to piss off my seventh grade english teacher.5. i have never felt closer to my fatherthan when we stayedoutside till two a.m. in november and watcheda meteor shower.6. there are some thingsi don’t think i’ll ever
When CloudsWhen clouds set in closely,I drift into dimensions;designated desires,with irrational intentions.---Don't ask me how to fly,just try.Pursue your potential.