Hiding in the background.
Behind everything and everybody.
I’m missing something in me.

I wait at the end of the mat thinking those thoughts.
Thinking as hard as my brain would let me.
When I’m starting to run...

What is life?
Is it the short time between birth and death?
Is it a chance to do something?
If it is, then what?
Do we pursue happiness?
Do we try to help others?
Or are we all here to fulfill a purpose?
If we are, how do we find it?
We don’t.

The wallflower sits and listens,
in the back of the classroom,
remembering each word spoken.

She never smiles,
never laughs,
has never shown emotion.

You see, I’ve been on both ends, the smile and the tear,
But still I stand after all of my years,
Perhaps a little wiser, maybe stronger too,
But I’m still nowhere close to what I’m meant to do.
And although I seem generous and incredibly kind,

I’m the kind of girl who doesn’t let go.
I’m the kind of girl who doesn’t let her true colors show.
The girl who hides her sadness as if she’s wearing a mask
And says that everything is fine.
The girl who pretends everything is sublime.

Who am I?
     I am a puzzle. A million words and thoughts and ideas, feelings that fit together.
     I can maybe identify some of them if
                              I look hard.
     Some I have no idea what they mean.
     Some are small, invisible.

People hide in the darkness of the day
They see it happen but they stay away
But today is the day that I speak up and say something
Being brave, not afraid
Taking a chance and stepping out
Being heard not reticent
Standing up and speaking out

The fire hisses, flickering,
as it lay encaged by a thick black sheath of iron.
Cloth stockings droop down− bare and bereaved.
Pure, white snow is drifting
down from the blank upper atmosphere.
The gray and white dog routinely scampers

Sitting on my grandpa Larry’s lap,
laughing and smiling.
Going everywhere on the cart smiling.
Smiling the way he laughs.
Going to the hospital trying to smile,
but I can’t.
Rushing to his room I run.
He is still there I smile.

The ties to your ancestry
Binding a great family tree,
With this can you be truly free?
Now you have these choices three:
Embrace your blood,
An old-new bud.
Refuse the bonds
For fields beyond.
Keep roots down there,
And to be fair,

I have not changed at all.
It is not true that
I have changed for the better from experience.
It is genuine when I say that
I have not tried to apologize for my past wrongdoings.
I am false when I claim that
I learned from myself and others.

Some of us haven’t quite found a place
We wander with suitcases full of self-doubt and worry
We flit from person to person seeking acceptance
We run from place to place
searching for a passion where we can direct the never ending flow of time

What do you do when the place you call home
Is one that you no longer recognize; when you
Forget that place is no mere function of space,
But also a function of time; and the
Crystalline memories you can still see,

This place, that place, there are so many in which I can be,
But I choose that one, the one where I can be free.
It can be a place where the sun shines at the crack of dawn,
A place that is so dreamy it can make me yawn.
This place is there for me night and day,

I couldn’t see the ocean, I couldn’t see the waves.
I didn’t even know there were waves.
Just a blue blur, like paint splattered on a blank canvas
Tripping over nothing,
Catching something that wasn’t there
A trick of the mind it was.

Down the winding path I stroll, through woods dark
And deep, where mystery and magic roam.
A swift stream runs here; high above, a lark
Sings sweet and clear, in a voice that calls “home.”
Onwards, a low growl comes from some deep cave

there was a river/in the black hills/that my favorite trail followed/with pine trees lining
its banks/of hard ground and towering rocks//i would beg my father/to walk that trail/
as far as it went/as many days as i could//and as we walked he would/recite poems from

It’s been five days,
But more than five days have been accomplished
It doesn’t feel like years have past,
Only that the beginning seems like years ago
It’s time to leave, to another world
But the world we leave will never leave us

i could break beneath the weight of
atmosphere.
these stars, balanced atop my head
are heavier than the sun,
lending their light
across a universe, a lifetime
to shatter my insides in their silence.
the ground has already crumbled,

Hadfield gazed out the small glass window,
a portal to home.
Through the opening, an inspiring sight,
the bright sunlight shone.
Swirling colors, pushing to the horizon,
a palette of aquamarine,
And through the dappled cover of clouds,

On sad days,
his eyes tell me stories –
stories of pain,
of struggle,
of truth.
They hold within them soft, grey clouds after April afternoon storms.

But the sky is bright without the sun,
because it is never truly gone.

My record player- The warm sound of “Ultraviolence” circling through my room like nothing I’ve ever heard before. Connected with the music. 

        You look at me and you soon know my entire story, a story of sadness turned into bliss but only because of you- connected

Quite a lot to say but such little time,
We are all stuck in the crime of rhythm and rhyme.
Forgive my silence, my pen is running dry.
Don't know if I'll make it but I can promise to try.

right now, I am a rough draft.
I am left here to be
looked back on and revised

Standing alone, solo
In the darkest shadows
She would pour her forte emotion into piano whispers
Although she is afraid now, her goal never blurs

A old man beyond salvation
slumps on the ground
and prepares for his end.
He starts listing what he doesn’t have

anymore,
He is
beyond the point of coming back
but he still has one joy.
He has a motivation to keep going

“These violent delights have violent ends
And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,
Which, as they kiss, consume.”
-William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet 

One star, a single shining star,
Made us today, who we are.
When rocks both smooth and coarse,
Came together with force.
When the galaxy was new,
Something in space was a brew!

Some of my hobbies include:
writing
and baking
and looking into your brown eyes until I fear that I just might lose myself inside of them.
A few of my favorite activities are:
drawing
and sewing

Red and burning
Heart jumping
Pumping
A whisper of excitement
Concealed behind hesitant lips
Waiting to slip
Forget.