In cords and ribbons;

she does not speak.
People don't know whether to
scoff, or to pity, both maybe.
Yet she continues,
her tongue clicking,
her hands swift and nimble,
as she cuts up her little heart
and neatly wraps each one
into a package with a small,
small love letter.

Simple words, straight forward
and easy to decipher, with
meaning so plain and tangible.
Her tongue clicks, words still
quiet, her fingers folding the envelope
so delicately. Scissors lay on the table,
for cutting bits and pieces of herself
into each small package.

She hopes, with the light of a candle
and a flicker of a match stick,
that people would notice
her silent devotion.
Would not scoff, nor pity.
Hoped they'd smile and laugh,
as they read each part of her;
saw each part of her;
noticed each part of her—

that were all in cords and ribbons.

I spent my last birthday in tears
I won't make that mistake again

Walking in the woods to clear my thoughts
With birds keeping me melodic company

I give a round of applause after their impromptu performance

The attention they receive from me is the attention I hope for on my special day this year
The way they they make their exit is the way I wish I could make my entrance
On wings
Landing from an elegant flight fashionably late

But bones are not quite hollow enough yet

Nothing that could have killed you,
so far,
has.

Thus this is the day,
this is the day that can **** you,
if you fail to live through it.

I write miracles

from who I am, from my wounds –


and brutality.

I have figured out
that all I have to do
is put on my most
blissful
grand
lip-tearing
smile
for you to notice me.
So I will rip apart
every single muscle
in my face
for you to
smile back.

I let the light shine

through my attentive heart, yes –


I cherryblossom!

Jealousy should not be mistaken
As wanting attention

What is a boat good for
where there's no water?
A coma tied to dockside
missing it's blue waves.

What is poet's purpose
when he's a lousy knotter?
A lack of words on paper,
his mind is short of tales.

He's fishing for ideas
on a ship that won't sail,
oblivious to his surroundings,
he's only bound to fail.

No one calls me smart
They all check my grades
Mockery of the success
Shameful of the less
Trophy for being a disappointment
I try my hardest
Just for the attention
The approval
Is what keeps me going
I want an A
But I’m labeled with a B, C, D, or F
The attention is all wrong
The ridicule
Not reward
Nothing feels retained
I want a place to post
To show I’m more
To feel seen and liked
To see mean and nice
To share what I do with a brush
What I can do with facepaint
See others
Share songs
But it's about **** time
That they see it isn't
The showing to others
That ensured my demise
The help they would give me
The eyes and the ears
To feel seen and heard
The spotlight again
It will shine on my face
As if everyone cared
As if I wasn't so scared
And I would feel cured
But the labels I gain
Seem to be retained
Without a constraint
Of worry and pain