YouMeEveryone

My emotions,
they’re like a roller coaster,
up and down
around and around.

And in the end,
we’re back to the start.
Back to the beginning,
strap me in.
Pull the lever,
let it begin.
Up and down
around and around,
am I afraid or is this a thrill?

My emotions,
they’re like a roller coaster,
up and down
around and around.

More Than Anything Else

“Misery loves company”?
No, I’d rather be alone.
No one to hear every moan and groan.
Yet, I’d rather be the fortress in the face of my peers.
I’d rather be the beautiful music to their ears;
the one who supports the others in turn,
than the one who causes worry and concern.

My quiet support, my hand, my guide,
I’ll feign happiness, despite what each line hides.
Be the bringer of my laughter, my joy, my youth.
Be the one who makes me smile, entirely, in truth.
Remind me what it’s like to be that way. 
I’d rather be happy than anything else, any day.

Moments.

I have moments where I’m so happy… so happy I feel I could cry,
so happy that the awful moments no longer reside
within the ridges of my mind.
You couldn’t find them, if you tried.

I have moments where I’m so happy… so happy yet I don’t know why;
no reason, none whatsoever,
just a burst of joy that appears
but it quickly just disappears.

I have moments where I am so happy… so happy it confuses my mind
like a brand new emotion, each time.
Just happiness.
Just peace. 

“Dear Diary, Nice to Meet You”

Dear journal, diary, what’s your name?
I have some secrets to proclaim.
I’m very stressed, so stressed you see,
as stressed as someone like me could be.
I worry, I worry—of everything:
my grades, my car, him and me.
I feel every feeling that I can feel
in thousands or millions of magnified deals.
I’m dealt and dealt many discouraging words
that encouraging is far, as far as worlds.
They’re said, the compliments, I cherish them so,
but don’t feel them, don’t see them, when I need them most.
I’m loud, I smile, it’s mostly a front.
To me, I’m really just a sad little runt.
I’m pretty, I know it, but don’t always see
when the words like unfit and fat follow me.
I’m smart, I’ve heard it, I cherish it most.
But sometimes, my intelligence feels like a ghost.
It’s there, all there, but since some can’t see it,
how can I, he, she, or they believe it?
I’m tall, I’m courageous, I’m funny, I’m nice.
But really, I’m a coward, small, encased in ice.
They’re helping me melt it, with driers and fire.
I thank them, not loudly, love each effort—entire.

My Creative Writing Class…

In my creative writing class so far, we’ve been writing a lot of poetry & we had to write an “I Am” poem, with strict guidelines…. I feel like if people actually read my poem, they may understand me better— so I’m going to post it among any other thing from that class we write during the year I feel relates to me or whatever & just tag it creative writing & something else probably. K, here goes:

“A Dying Candle In the Dark”

I am full of words, English.
I wonder if when we die, we go to Heaven
I hear music, nonstop, every second
I see true beauty, in every heart
I am full of words, English

I pretend to know what I’m doing
I feel pressure— I’m a queen
I touch the essence of pure emotion
I worry I’m a dying candle— not good enough
I am full of words, English

I understand I can’t be the best
I say I can, and I can be better
I dream of being the one to mend a heart
I try to be what you want
I hope to be the lion— courageous
I am full of words, English. 

the thought, a seed
whatever i could grow to be,
a flower or a tree, bending  & breaking
in the the wind
the earth, the solar system, designed
to be a seed. a seed that grows

a flower, fragile yet beautiful
to a tree, strong with layers.
planted seed, in a mind
in a body, in the world.

never knowing, steadily
it grows- a tiny little seed.