This world lacks voices
of those
scared to speak out.
Our main weapon
forcibly taken away from us
due to fear.
Fear,
a weapon of war
few have the power to escape;
my boyfriend is scared to
walk down the streets holding my hand
due to the overwhelming
possibility of attack
or stares,
can't even walk down the street
in a skirt
without death glares,
since the hair on my face seems not to align with what
genitals people think should be hidden under it.
Why is it that young queers are forever silenced
from speaking their mind, embracing themselves
or even just finding a friend to be open with,
A luxury that
so many lack.
My ability to function in society
should have nothing to do, with who I love,
or what I have downstairs;
for one thing is certain:
I will survive.

In the clean,
crisp air
of early morning,
I make my way
down to the field
where I plan to spend most of the day.
My heart pounds,
my body trembles
nervously as I walk.
Today, I leave this earth,
if only temporarily.
I settle down beneath a tree,
perfectly alone as
I open my brown paper bag.
Inside, my escape
to a better world,
my early morning confidence helping me relax.
After about an hour or relaxing
bright circles appear,
floating around in my empty field.
They're friendly, welcoming
to me, pulling me out of my lazy state.
Running freely, I follow them
with not a care in the world.
the field has turned vivid, bright and colorful,
the warmth dancing on my skin.
This running doesn't last long
as I slip down in the middle of the field.
The big beautiful sky passing by,
the clouds wave hello
as they pass by me
and that early morning confidence takes me away to a happier place.

The deed is done,
a puddle of red,
or rather
an ocean
of red
stains the floor.
Now to wait
till they
lock me away
in a mental institute,
the body was that of my son.
But they don't get it,
no one does.
This world is far
too cold
and
harsh
for life.
I brought him
into this world,
the guilt overpowered me
for all of his 13 years of life.
To see him ostracized
from everyone
because of the way he looks
and acts
was possibly the most painful thing
I have ever witnessed,
He tried so hard
to join in.
I didn't ever want
to end his life,
never intended to,
but he came home today
still an outcast.
Nothing we tried in the past had worked,
no amount
of discussions
with the principle,
or social workers,
did anything
but **** us over again.
So I stand here,
the ocean of blood before me
with a knife stuck in his chest (about where he heart is)
a noose around my neck, a chair underneath me.
This world is far too cold
and harsh, to survive in.

Where am I?
I've just been wandering around
Dead as a doorknob.
But how am I thinking?
Life's unanswered questions
I suppose.
Or would
that be
Undead life?
Fingers all rotted,
Skin peeling,
you could say
there's not much
left for me
here.
Though,
I suppose
brains aren't bad.
They're the key to memories,
emotions,
those which I
Crave.

I'm in love with 3 boys in my English class
who all are freaks,
like me.
We hide our
shame,
self hatred,
and
lies
in ourselves.
But being
together
always makes me feel alive.
Though, very rarely do
I get to see them,
feel them,
hold them close.


The first is Happiness,
he's always cheery
loud and boisterous.
He makes me smile,
feel glad to be alive.

Second is Depression,
he's a loner
but always deep in thought,
I can't remember
the last time
I was deep in thought.

Third is Greed,
he's different;
VERY
different.
He's abusive,
so is Depression,
but not nearly as Greed.

I miss when Happiness and I
could be together,
just by ourselves.
Those times  with him
were the best I've had,
but the other two
forced themselves in.
Things became drab,
unless we were all together.

I mostly hung out with Depression.
we'd often sit in my room,
snorting coke
or
whatever drugs we could get our hands on.
I guess we had fun.

Being with greed scared me.
He always encouraged me to steal,
to lie so we wouldn't get caught.
Like Depression,
he also liked the drugs,
but he wanted me to have *** with strangers,
for money.
He always wanted money.
Money, money, money,
nothing else matter to him except ******* money

Well,
I'm sitting in jail now,
Greed and Depression by my side.
But it's OK, Happiness comes to visit every so often.
Usually though,
something comes up for him
so he can't make it.

I'm in love with 3 boys in my English class;
and I realized it after it was too late.

Maybe the trees have souls
And they're watching
Over us.

What if
The trees were gods
That protect the earth,
Or try to
At least.

The earth,
The kingdom
For the trees,

What is reality?
what's real anymore? And
why can't I reach out,
and touch the sky?

I want nothing more
then to sit on a cloud,
high out of my mind
and leave this body behind.

Why can't my imagination
come out
in person
and finally
live?