Starving is a punch,

one thats uncomfortable pain,

I am in a fight.

Three little numbers

that nudge into my short poems,

leaving a pattern.

Invisible ghosts,

watching the living closely,

wanting to come back.

People think I'm immature,

they see me as a nuisance,

and can't see past age.

I
wish somethings were different
     Don't
get me wrong, but,
     Like
somethings could change,
     This.
would then be so much easier.

I wished I could care,

but now I wish to forget,

and move on past them.

Looking in the glass,

I see myself staring back,

our eyes are unsure.


A flash of something,

it looked like pity,

crossed inside of them.


My features shifted,

tears dripping leaving thin lines,

mascara smearing.


"Pathic I am."

The blank reflection agrees,

shifting to my thoughts.

Tear my sorrow from

my chest, that pain is much more

preferred in the end.

Soldiers sitting on the dunes

of my sea, hear my tunes.

A siren’s call none can resist,

pulling men to my deep abyss.

Come see what lies within this tomb;

you all will fall,

far too soon.

Raven sitting on my roof-

why do you wait with such aloof?

Won't you crow your haunting call,

or will you sit silent as I pall?

Dear Raven way up high,

won't you fly?

Certainly my roof is not as nice,

as a tree with few mice?

Amber necklaces

sitting on a fair collar,

the jewel of her soul.

Wishing for something

in life is not effective.

You must work instead.

Hold me in light lies,

hurt me with harsh honesty,

I'll trust you both ways.

Finding a purpose,

is like finding a unicorn,

you must believe first.

Cool air washed over,

as I went in-

a place never meant to see the light.

Dwell in my blank mind-

a thought filling up the space,

leaving me unfocused.

I can't change myself,

even if I wanted to,

which I guess is a sad shame.

Blood mares a hero the same as a villain,

the crimson doesn't pick and choose,

anyone can choke in it's noose.

Leave me upside-down,

like a hog hunted hotly,

am I just a prize?

I

f
e
l
l

into a wishing well,
my body hitting the water,
causing a splash.

The coins on the bottom

s                       c
          a
t          
                               t
      e            r          
e                                     d

as I bumped the ground.

My gaze

w
       a
v
           e
    r
e
       d

as water invaded my eyes.

It poured into my mouth,
stopping my heart-

.
.
.

Suddenly it beat again-
then it stopped once more.

If you shoot for the stars,

and miss,

you won't land on the moon,

you'll fly to the abyss.

"Grant Mercy,"
they plead as they bled.

"Mercy."
I scoff as I mock.

"That was not given by you,
so it shall not be given to you."

"You will have the twinge of regret,
as I make you bleed in a fret."

Music is a river,

connecting streams of people,

my ship sails on it.

Sadness is a pain,

but it is also the key

to have empathy.

When I die one day,

I'll be remembered for years,

then one day I won't.

I made fire catch-

the sparks burning those near me,

charring my whole world.

******* in my head,

I don't see the world fully,

when will I wake up?

Hope is a seed,
somewhat a ****.

Growing tough,
through the rough.

Staying in our flower bed,
even when we think its dead.

Home is a hot hell,

one that I can't escape,

knowing that I'd leave my tracks.

The guilt would somehow bring me back.

Mockingjay, sweet Mockingjay,

where will you go today?

Will it be the heavens-

or will it be the hells?

Mockingjay, oh Mockingjay,

what will you say?

Will you laugh with those above,

or laugh at the ones below?

Mockingjay, dear Mockingjay,

when will you stay?

Will it be when your wings start to fray,

or when you grow out of play?

Please tell me, my Mockingjay.

The darkness is not wanted,

but it is what makes the light shine bright.

Without it, nothing would be light.

Everything would blind.

"Be Better."

Is what is said to me,

sugarcoated words

with that meaning underneath!

Do I not try hard enough?

Must I be judge?

"You are a child. What do you know?"

Is what is said to me,

underestimated,

by my own family!

I had to be the parent for my siblings,

but what do I know?

More than my own mother knows!

"You aren't mature. Grow up."

Is what is said to me,

shut down

by the adults above me.

I had to be grown.

My childhood lasted for 7 years.

After that, I was just there.

My youth robbed because I had to fill bigger shoes.

But what do I know.

What do I need to grow?