Poetry

I am but a Nation of creation under shared, 

My words and actions treat me as though I am unprepared. 

I know these shoes are bigger than could ever meet my feet, 

Every day, I sit and stare

at you talking about what others consider nonsense. 

I'd call you a wordsmith,

Staged-like words flowing off the tip of your tongue. 

I hunch in the corner of the group,

I came to sit by you everyday,

Listening to your laugh,

Imagining what it'd be like if we were friends,

Knowing you don't feel the same. 

I have never wanted

Something more than I do now

The problem is

I don't know what

I don't know what

I long for

What I reach for

It's like a dream

Blurry and unrecognizable

I want this thing

There you go again:

Reciting beautiful words 

that no one cares about.

My broken mouth waits impatiently;

Your swift fingers sewed it shut 

Now I am a teen

Thirteen years old

Childhood has been left behind

My story has been told

I don't have too much time left

I think about it every night

So let me share my stories

I’d like to garden

My own heart,

To pull the weeds of sadness

And hate

From the foundation

I sprout from,

To plant seeds of hope

There is an inexplicable rot inside of me that is incapable of removal

The urge to extract it has incessantly bugged me since birth

Our story always ends the same

No matter how many pages I turn

In the end

I’m the friend in need

And you’re the main character, always having to help me

I try to rip the pages out

I Miss The Old You

When we first met

I had no idea

You would become so important to me

But I’m starting to wish

We never met

Now I’m forced to remember you

I always feel singled out of the crowd.

I wonder why they chose me.

I wonder why they don’t pick on anyone else when I am around.

The library is my favorite thing

A book is my favorite listener

A library is a place of freedom

They have everything

Snacks? 

Are you hungry?

There is a vending machine