This world is filled with to much pain
Like a vampire it just ***** and drains
It's hard to stand tall under all the strain
I find myself once more sinking below
Like hot molten tar, it won't let me go

Despair spreading faster than a cancer
For all my questions there is no answer
I really don't know what the **** to do
As my soul is ripped in two

My tears keep sliding the mask down my face
As misery and sorrow interlace
Everywhere I go I leave a river of anguish behind
As memories of my life, flood my mind

It'd leave you terrified if you could look and find
All the things that I do hide
Behind my fake facade
For I am much more than odd

For I am the definition of sorrow
Of all things hollow
Painted with the brush of dark mystery
I am the picture of misery
I'm the cautionary tale
The elders, use to exhale
I am the woeful song
That in this world doesn't belong

Down into the belly of the earth
Burned to the core to prove my worth
Cleansed or consumed,  we'll soon know the end to my story
Whatever the outcome, there will be no glory
This universe is in full ******* control
Watch as it pushes me deeper down below

I love being horribly straightforward. I love sending reckless text messages (because how reckless can a form of digitized communication be?) and telling people I love them and telling people they are absolutely magical humans and I cannot believe they really exist. I love saying, “Kiss me harder,” and “You’re a good person,” and, “You brighten my day.” I live my life as straight-forward as possible.

Because one day, I might get hit by a bus.

I could be walking down the street one day, blasting Rihanna or Fleetwood Mac, jamming so hard that I don’t see the bus coming. I could be walking with a book in my hand, reading until the very end. I could be paying total and complete attention, imagine the impact before it arrives.

And I’d really, really rather not die with some confusing statement I said sitting in the phone or the thoughts or the memory of someone I know, care about, need.

I know how it is—we all want to be mysterious. None of us want to get hurt. None of us want to look desperate. So we wait to respond to texts, phone calls, emails, Facebook messages, Tweets. So we communicate our emotions in how we end our messages (no period this time? Really gonna get them.). So we say vague, half-statements and expect people to read our minds.

But what if we died?

What if the last thing you ever texted that girl was, “I don’t know, whenever,” when she asked when she should come over, even though you really really wanted to see her right now? What if you were head-over-heels in lust with some beautiful human in your Lit. class but you chose to wait 15 seconds before texting them back, only to never get the chance to text them at all?

Maybe it’s weird. Maybe it’s scary. Maybe it seems downright impossible to just be—to just let people know you want them, need them, feel like, in this very moment, you will die if you do not see them, hold them, touch them in some way whether its your feet on their thighs on the couch or your tongue in their mouth or your heart in their hands.

But there is nothing more beautiful than being desperate.

And there is nothing more risky than pretending not to care.

We are young and we are human and we are beautiful and we are not as in control as we think we are. We never know who needs us back. We never know the magic that can arise between ourselves and other humans.

We never know when the bus is coming.

(So go text them back.)

-Rachel C. Lewis

Whether you're racist or not?
Accept the freedom of others to protest.
Maybe from your perspective, they are wrong.
Then that's just your opinion.
Then you probably part of that group that still enjoy so much freedom.

Secluded in your neighborhood of security.
Trying to deny other group their chances to achieve their dreams.

The group that use political rules to hold others back.
While they use the same tricks of the trade to get ahead like in the past.
Then, this is probably too much truth.

The Civil Rights Act didn't advantage everyone.
Just stated to offer opportunity to everyone with out your hatred involved.

Oh, sure the group that cries freedom also the one crying foul without realizing where others are coming from?
Then when exposed as a little bit hampering on being a racist.
They like a politicians use they miscontexted my words.

But they the words that you said.

Don't cry any amendments about guns without addressing the freedom to protect and speak.
Strange when companies won't recognize a union that this same group cries foul for unjust fairness to get raises.

And attack those crossing the line to still provide for their families.

THE GREATEST thing about America is the freedom and rights with this country to do your will to certain extents.
Why?
Do you think others travel miles to get here?

I have given pieces of my heart
to those who need it most
and yet I still found enough love
..to give my heart it's color
to let it blush
when it should, when it's struck?

I have juggled the knives
of insults that tried to paper cut
my skin as each one fell
a hairline away from my fingers
and yet I crave the adrenaline
that comes from defying such
near pain experiences

I have melted at the sight
of beauty, of music, of art, of poetry
of words, single or together
that kind of beauty
that moves your soul
the one that coats you
with a chill
that breathes life into
your blase presence
the one that's rustic
classic, that's ethereal
the one that creeps under your skin
and glazes your eyes with a glossy layer
for your body cannot explain
it in any other way
cannot digest
cannot comprehend
that such pulchritude
exists and
the best part
is that
it's real

do you feel that?
congratulations
You're still
feeling
&
that's a *******
blessing
feel..