Hangman

Hangman; the childish game. The game of guessing, mystery, excitement. The game where it doesn't really matter what letter you choose, you can simply add more clothes or hair. But what people don't  realize is that it teaches us a good lesson. That lesson being, be careful what words you choose because they really can kill. These games we have our children play are teaching them to be careful of your words, because one moment you could be joking and next have their blood on your hands. You never know,  but at least our children are being taught better than we were. They are learning to be more accepting and kind. Much different than what we knew. But it's better for the next generation to be careful with words. They really can kill.

Find Me

Find me in the crowd of regret. Find me in the cloud of broken promises and failed dreams. That's where you'll find me.  You'll find me sitting alone, waiting for you to take the empty seat beside me. You'll find me walking the streets in the rain, praying for something good to come of the cold and flood of rain. You'll find me, on the roof, ready to take the jump. You will find me laying on my bedroom floor waiting for the pills to kick in. That's where you'll find me. You won't find me laughing with the other girls, or cheering on the cheer squad, you won't find me giggling with the football players. No, you'll find me sitting in the stairway alone at lunch, listening to depressing music and drawing eyes. Eyes that can see into your very soul. Eyes that make you think. After all, real eyes realize real lies. And your eyes, my darling, your eyes are as fake as they come. You only see what you want to see never what is truly in front of you no matter how obvious and life changing it is, your eyes can't see anything real. Your eyes are simply that. Eyes. They are color blind to what is actually going on in life. And you won't find me with those eyes. You won't save me. Your eyes will change when I'm gone. And maybe then you will realize the lies of the world.

Halo of Emptiness

You are an angel with the most beautiful halo. A halo of emptiness. A halo full of empty feeling and broken promises. A halo that is a constant reminder of all things that never happened, no matter how much you prayed they would. A halo full of people telling you to shut up, to stop feeling. To stop loving them, even though you know it's impossible to stop loving them because they are your world.

You are an angel whom everyone treats like a devil. An angel who has the biggest heart and most beautiful wings, but no one can look past your halo of emptiness. And maybe someday someone will look past your halo. Maybe someone will see that labels aren't all that matter. I was that angel. And the day I stopped caring about why other people thought, and did what I wanted to do, was the day I finally felt free. And you will too. 

Heartstrings

When you say my name, my heartstrings start to quiver. When you look my way, I feel a little strum from the harp of strings connecting my thoughts and feelings. When you touch my hand, my heart starts to beat out of my chest so rapidly that the strings have to pull with all their might to stop me from handing you my heart and my all.

Heartstrings are the only thing keeping me from giving myself to you. They tie me to the fence post of doubt and splash me with buckets full of reality. Reality that you won't love me. That you don't love me. Heartstrings are the only thing keeping me from kissing you. From kissing you daily. In the middle of class, right after the bus, in front of your parents, during our movie parties, during our damn walks I just have to kiss you, I have to kiss you now, but I can't. Because my heartstrings forbid it. They forbid me to even look at you. Because when I do, legions and legions of doubt and insecurity come flowing from my chest trying to build an immunity to you. Because you will infect me with your smile, your giggle, and your eyes. The very thoughts of you infects me so much that I have had hospital visits to get special antibiotics intended for killing off the thoughts of you, the dreams of you. And I let them. 

Grenades

It's your fault. It's always been your fault. You're nothing. No wonder you're friendless. You are a slut.

Why do you believe this? Why are you giving into the lies people are telling you? It's as if they are advertising suicide. Guns don't kill people, darling. People kill people. Words and bullying kill people. They kill people. Believing these lies that people feed you is the first step towards self hatred. Believing that you are nothing is the first step towards detonation. The grenade of life. 

Life is a ticking bomb. At first, when you are born, all seems well. You have all the time in the world. But then you grow up. You get hurt. You get your heart broken. You get bullied, abused, tortured. All of these are taking time off your, what seemed to be infinite life. This series of unfortunate events is shaving moments, seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years, off your life. Listening and accepting this, is killing you. These things will build up and force you to pull your own cord on the grenade of life. They will make you detonate yourself. So speak up. Pull down your hand that is ready to end lives. Don't allow yourself to be put down by unloving and unintelligent people who are praying that you will fail. Don't let them win. Instead, speak your mind. Show them how you feel. The more you let go, the less time you will have. Speak up, tell that person to stop calling you that. Tell your friends that you don't appreciate them doing that. Speak up and save yourself. 

The Bus

Another day gone. Another hell about to begin. The bus. The terror of terrors. Cautiously walking up the stairs, careful not to fall on your face, you find your unassigned assigned seat. Seat 3C. Your favorite. The bus begins to fill, and with that, the noise begins. Time to start your music--but wait, here he comes. The boy of your dreams, the one you've wanted to marry since 5th grade. Here he comes. Casually strolling into the bus, looking around for an empty seat. He likes the empty seats. You're alike that way. He looks around, you moved your textbook before he entered the vehicle so perhaps he would sit by your side and confess his love-- but no. He walks past and takes the empty seat behind yours. Maybe a conversation, you think to yourself, but as you remove one headphone, he puts in his matching one. No luck.

It's your stop, both of yours. You gracefully exit the bus, careful not to trip, and wait for the okay to cross the street. "This is it, he will walk me home and kiss me in the garden, this is the day I've been waiting for!" But no. As you look behind, he's already walking 50 feet away. You can't do anything now. So you cross the street. "I hate that damn bus" you say to yourself as you take the long way home. 

Selfish

We are a selfish people. We lie, steal, beg, and cheat. We are selfish beings. Beings who care not about others, why would we? Why would we, the selfish, care for anyone but ourselves? Tis a rough world out there, my dear. One with perils unlike any you've seen before, love being the worst of them. Love, the very word makes me cringe. Not that I don't believe in infatuation, but because I've fallen in love so deeply, that it was impossible to fall out. "Falling in love is amazing" they say. But aside from the temporary joy you get from the so called "love" you also get sorrow, frustration, anger, loneliness, and fear. Nothing good can come from love. Fall off a cliff. It will hurt less than love. Nothing is good about love. Not when it is a selfish love. A selfish love, one that only takes the good and positivity out of you, will only bring you misery. We are a selfish people. Those who aren't, are over run by the selfish that inhabit the earth. Love, isn't all it is hyped up to be. Unless you let go of the selfishness within your heart, and give, and not only take, we will always be a selfish people incapable of love.