If you personally know me, you’d know just how gullible I really am
You could tell me the sky’s falling and I’d believe you.
Or
You could tell me you’ll change.
After the umteenth time I’ll finally realize a leopard doesn’t change its spots.
Like a wise man once said, “fool me once, shame on - shame on you. Fool me - you can’t get fooled again.’
…
Okay, maybe George W. Bush wasn’t very wise but neither am I
Everyone makes mistakes so I’m sure as hell not one to judge
But I’m definitely good at holding a grudge
So don’t ever expect a hug from me
I’m speaking to all of my past friends that used me and the people that emotionally abused me
‘Luckily’ in my case this is to everyone but my family
…
Yes I’m emotional but I’m only a human
And yes I’m gullible to think I’ll always have the same friends
Some come and some go, but those that really matter are the ones that are there for you when you feel all alone
No I didn’t cut my hair for you guys to like me more or find me ‘attractive’
I cut it for myself because I started to dislike how I looked and I wanted to give to those who needed it more
The idea of making some little kid out in the world smile and happy about their appearance with a fresh new head of hair,  makes me feel a little bit better about myself.
But hey, if you don’t like it. There’s the door.
…
From here on out, I’ll be sure to only let positive people into my life and into my arms
But without a doubt, in the end, you’ll be remembered for the things you did and the things you’d never done, the people you hung out with and those you never even spoke to
Most of you may look at me and say, wow he really enjoys talking about himself or this poem is dumb
...
I wrote this poem to tell all of you at once that you shouldn’t do or say things you’ll regret
Learn to  look above the horizon and reach out to people you’d never imagine yourself talking to
Because someone out there will reach right back and bring you to a beautiful garden where the butterflies only exist in your stomach.
Don't be gullible like me and hear one opinion and believe to be true
Don’t let a group of people let you feel blue
Just as I shouldn’t have listen to those people back in middle school who called me worthless and dumb
Because I’m only human and I think I’m **** good one

This is not my home
it is doll house
a superficial sty of false pretenses
the dolls all lined up in a row
their smiling faces cracking
paint chipping off
having to live a life controlled by others
the master using their enormous hands
reaching to move my frame step by step.

No More!
I am no china doll to be controlled
I am a living human being
able to live and breath
to think
not to be manipulated and moved without a will of my own.

Other members in this false reality
sitting with their complacent smiles
eyes staring into the soul
destroying all of the hopes and dreams of the reckless
compelling all to understand
that this life is not their own
but it is for those in the past generations.

**** that!
My difference does not dictate my worth from past peoples
they and i
we are quite different
beliefs as far apart as this house to my heart' the wooden walls crying to be broken
to be free of this curse
self trying to become the human Pinocchio tried to be
slowly changing from their standards
becoming the human being who i must see as myself
all of the cracks and splinters and scars
declaring that i will never be perfect
and that is okay.

No one can be a perfect plaything.
Not forever anyway.
everyone changes
whether they enjoy their distinctions
or see disgust in all difference.
A mirror never lies.

There is nothing as tender as a grandmother's touch,
but to me it is as if I am being burned by fiery coals.
My parents embrace me to say hello, goodbye or see you soon,
but to me, a simple words are more then enough.
The touch, whether romantic or hateful or not with any explanation at all,
stays with me for days, weeks, months, years even.
I think of the people who touched me and I cringe,
I think and I wonder why I am so opposed to affections.
But then I remember,
I am not like the others.
For I,
I am addicted to the feeling of feeling pure and clean.

"Why do you write a poem?"
"Poems are so deep."
"I hate thinking deep."
"Eww, so meaningful and dark."
"Ugh, thats so sad."

Those are the words I always hear.
Whenever Im there, here, or near.
They talk about my poems behind my back
Sometimes if they could, they might throw me a rock.

Funny how they knew.
Funny how they find out.
Because that girl that I trusted
Bursted it all out.

Life, life, life.
Is this what they call life?
Is life the thing that makes you get a knife?
Im tired, arent you?

They are living in a world full of lies.
In a world they think they'll be famous.
In a world they think everyone likes them.
But, they're wrong.
This is a world that is dangerous.

They should open their eyes and start entering reality.
And entering reality starts by understanding deep poems.