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I Am BeautifulI am beautiful.
You may insult me and call me names,
You can't tear down my walls.
I am beautiful.
I have a name, which I am proud of,
I approve of myself, even if you don't.
I am beautiful.
No matter what you do or say,
I will stand up and stay strong.
I am beautiful.
Words will never hurt me, so call me what you like.
You can be irritated by me, and scream your words.
I am beautiful.
I will not fall down ever again,
You will not change me.
I am beautiful,
And I am staying that way.
HeroAm I a hero?
I wrote down the question one day when I got home from the academy, my eyes filled with tears. I had been crying as soon as I got home, shaken from all of the events that went on at school. At the time when, I never knew how I could define myself. The comments that people would say about me haunted me, and I never knew if I could get over them.
"You are so mean."
"Are you some sort of freak?"
"You look so ugly."
I tried to brush off all of the other comments. One remark stuck, although. It was said by one stuck-up popular girl, when I tried to talk to her. She looked at me straight in the eye, and spoke the words that would alter everything.
"Do you know who you remind me of? You remind me of those villains like in cartoons. Why? Nobody likes them, and I am sure nobody likes you. So, go away, because villains never win." Then, she applied another fresh coat of lip gloss and strutted off with her perfect friends who snickered at me. I tried to shake it of
Flavor of LifeThe flavor of life
Cannot be defined
For it is unique
It is sweet like cake,
But can be sour
Like a tart lemon.
The taste of life is
One that lingers like
Tasteless like water,
Yet tasty like cake,
And still so filling
The taste is savored,
The flavor of life
The UmbrellaI adored that store, and I relished walking to it every day. There was this one item that always caught my eye, although.It was beautiful, with sunlight glistening on the windowsill. But, there was always one item that caught my eye every time. It was this umbrella lying in the corner, with the wooden handle gently leaning against the window. It reminded me of my mother, and how she wore dresses of the same color when she was still alive. The dust covered the glimmer of its maroon color, but it still lied there like it had many years before. My mother had said to me when I was very young, "When we have enough money, I'll buy it." I was five when a drunk driver crashed into her at nighttime when she was driving home from work. I was deeply crushed when my father told me after dinnertime that sorrowful night. I would never forgive that man, especially since I knew him personally. Why did he have to crash into my beloved mother? I remember crying in my bedroom, staring out the
BetrayalI am haunted.
That face looms over me,
Staring at me,
His eyes gone cold.
We used to be friends,
Fighting on the same side.
Why did you have to
Betray me in the end?
I am holding onto memories,
Brittle and fragile like glass.
Us laughing together,
Looking into your eyes.
We were friends,
And I trusted you.
I thought you would
Never betray me.
I should have listened,
Should have looked for another.
Now, my life is tumbling,
And I am crashing down.
It is too late.
The DoveI am not alone
Not yet all broken
I might have shattered
But will not today
What did not kill me
Made me much stronger
The tears that were shed
Healed me up inside
You tried to smash me,
Break me, Erase me,
Take over control,
And leave me nothing
You really had thought
That it could have worked
Meaning you do not
Know me all that well
My guard is now up
I still have some hope
That I will protect
With one last breath
Still HereI am still living
Look here, I am okay
I have raised myself up
And I have caught myself
I do not need a "prince"
Or a "knight in shining armor"
To sweep me off my feet
I did think I was
Hopeless, but now I am
Not and never will be
I am happy to be alone
I strive to be myself again
Ignoring your opinions
I am still living
As I WriteThe trees swayed
Gently in the breeze
That Sunday night
As I wrote silently
About my triumphs,
About my failures,
And my wishes.
Like those trees swaying,
I go on
And never stop
Until I have reached
That last page.
How Vast It IsI can't write a poem for you.
I can't sing a song for you.
I can't be you.
I once wished I could take your place and told you I would in a heartbeat.
You said "Yes, please do!" but we know I can't even do that.
We both know you're strong and have weathered many things.
But some things won't change.
This disease you have now won't change. You'll change with it.
You sent a text message, "I felt a tiny feeling in my left foot! Woot!"
I sent one back to help you celebrate.
I wished again I had what you have. Such a small thing you felt against the looming.
I can't linger on woe.
I can't linger on "can't."
I can't linger here without you.
I'll be a rock to your paper, to your scissors, to your own rock.
I'll be your memory if you ever lose yours.
I'll be here without you if I must, to keep you circulating through the veins of vast existence forever.
In My HeartYou suck the breath from my lungs.
You take away the space between us.
You hold my hand tight no matter who is watching.
Are you perfect to me? Yes.
Are you my love? Forever.
Are you there when I need you? Always.
Every day I swear you are my miracle.
Every night I wish you sweet dreams on the stars and moon.
Every morning I ask the sun to kiss you for me.
Part of the time I cry over you from loneliness.
Part of the time I'm as starry eyed over you as anyone could be.
Part of the time I swear you're lying next to me, even when the bed is cold and empty.
Of all the people I know, you are the most amazing.
Of all the places I've been, I like being in your arms best.
Of all the things I've seen, you are the most stunning.
Me. You chose me.
Me. Why though, I'll never quite know.
Me. You still want me, and always will you say.
Always I think about you, day and night, but from the beginning of everything between us, you are every part of me.
HomeWorkWhy do I feel so cheated?
Why does it seem so unfair?
I'm told I'm on break
So Why does it take
So long till I can read or play?
I know there are chores,
Those I can't ignore
But why so much Home Work?
That is such a bore!
Math and Literature
History and more
I get so frustrated,
I want to throw it on the floor.
Gotta memorize four stories that I've never read before!
Book Report, Research report,
All due right after break
Gotta do it all.
How long will it take!
My sister is nagging me to play
Almost all day.
Why do I feel so cheated?
Why does it seem so unfair?
ApprehensionI'm sorry I hurt you.
I'm sorry you cared.
I don't know why I did it,
I think I was just so scared.
I didn't know what else to do,
and I definately didn't want to worry you;
So I hid from your sight,
behind a mask filled with smiles and delight.
But when I was most vulnerable,
and my mask began to fade;
You saw what I had been doing
much to your dismay.
Your voice, both gentle and soft
with that look of gloom
made me start to swoon.
I didn't realise it would effect you so great
but you still held me straight.
I had to turn around and go away.
I couldn't handle this tragic story.
But before I left, I heard you say,
"I love you more and more each day"
Once again I broke down
and left him there all alone.
I needed to think
and when I did,
I rushed back to where it all began,
only to realise he was gone
and I was to travel along this path alone.
It was all my fault;
I couldn't believe it.
And now I lost my one true soul.
Between Awake and AsleepMy eyes are wide open, even though I know it is time and past for me to be in bed. My throat is uncomfortably dry from all the words I have swallowed back. My feet ache to move, to just run so far and fast that none will ever catch me.
I'm tired and not, hovering on the edge of wide awake and asleep.
I take a deep breathe of the city's overfilled air into my lungs as I watch the cars underneath me slowly drive by. Sometimes I wonder what my life would have been like if I lived somewhere, somewhen, some-anything else. It's a silly wonder, at least that's how the adult world would classify it, a simple childhood wonder. But it is my thought, my wondering nonetheless.
The soft pitter-patter of the rain on the outstretched roof above me creates a steady rhythm around me. If I just ignore the cars below, then perhaps I can pretend that I am the only person in the entire world. Pretend that any and all thoughts and wonderings that I have kept back for so long will be set free to the
Just One NightWill you let me fall asleep to the sound
of your heart beat tonight?
Under my ear,
a sound that's so sweet,
like a bed of roses.
Under my body,
the soft release of your breathing,
lulls me to sleep in the darkness.
The beat is a soft pattering.
Rain drops on a window in the dead of night.
The beat is a strong clammering.
Thunder and lightning in the heavens.
My soul is rooted with fear
but it is desire that keeps me from moving.
Legs and hearts entangled, our bodies would be one.
Upon your chest, will you hold me?
Will you let me fall asleep to the sound
of your heart beat tonight?
The PianistHis fingers rested on the keys. He inhaled a shaky breath.
He had finished practicing for the day. Four hours straight, every day except Monday.
For a moment, the thought of why his fingers weren't bleeding crossed his mind. But he quickly rationalized, piano keys had no way to damage. At least, not yet, He thought dully. One of his greatest fears was growing old and getting arthritis.
The young man had a difficult relationship with the piano. Most everyone who heard him play enjoyed it. Most everyone said he was talented. But it did not seem that way to him.
He did not have idols like immortal Beethoven, or modern sensations like Einaudi. Rather, he wished to harness the soul of the piano. To meet it, to embrace it, as they had done.
The piano, he was sure, was the most perfect thing ever built. Everything about it, he could adore. The strings and hammersmechanisms, so intricate, to produce something so gripping. The slender legs like that of a beautiful woman's.
Brother, Please Come BackBrother, brother,
I once hated you.
You stole all my teddies,
You smeared them with glue.
I once laughed with you,
We were playing with paint,
Your face was all blue.
I once followed you.
You gave me my knowledge,
You taught me to pursue.
I forgot to thank you.
You were always my friend,
Someone to talk to.
Why did you go?
When can I see you?
I'll even walk through the snow.
Now I finally know
Time passes too fast,
And we were too slow.
Remember that show?
She lost all her siblings,
Her world filled with sorrow.
I shouldn't have let you go.
But you're out of my life,
Now nothing ever flows.
She is an AngelShe is an angel, beauty undefined,
Awe-inspiring, unlike any other.
Perfectly gorgeous, a gift to mankind,
In turn they swoon, one after another.
But an angel without wings is broken;
Hers were taken a hundred years ago.
The curse she bears is silent, unspoken,
But still she smiles, her beauty aglow.
What she wouldn't give for another chance,
But she knows she must live with her choices.
She stands unblinkingly, fixed in her stance,
Never once giving in to those voices.
Silently, she waits, for that fateful day,
When a mortal shall arrive in her life.
His feelings of lust shall be kept at bay;
Then, only then, shall she become his wife.
A VoiceYour breathing stops
You cannot talk
And you do not
Know what to say
Back to the brain
Eyes slowly look
"I am not gone,"
But you cannot
Manage to grasp hope
The slumber once
Light shines through
You find a voice
You are not gone
You have a voice
You can still speak
Out to the world
Volpi.You will find that the story you tell
is very rarely your own. In Lucca,
even the smallest pebbles
breathe in the warm sunlight.
Knotted stones and cobbled roads
beat out a paper-dry heartbeat heat
my city breathes in and out,
inhales sparrow air.
It's writing a story.
You are the pen.
You will find that in Lucca
the daisy chains forge fire
in side streets and back alleys.
Teenagers intertwine. Tell me,
odd flower, are you still closed?
Here we are colored wax;
the heat of the city melts us.
We run into each other, rhapsody
of pigments. Operas are our specialties.
Open up; feel the reds.
If not, try and see them. There is a place
of deep knife marks, a street
long as midnight
you may learn something there.
Valentina's voice glimmers like red wine.
You may enjoy intoxications. Still,
know alcohol has no story
and will swallow your own.
Find the sign with the wolf on it.
You'll know the place. Epiphanies ring true as church-bells.
Lucca still guides the wanderers
to well sp
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