[x]

Does that make me Different?I wear make up. Does that make me fake?
I cry. Does that make me emo?
I have male friends. Does that make me slutty?
I smile a lot. Does that make me weird?
I laugh loud. Does that make me preppy?
I have anxiety. Does that make me a freak?
I have Bipolar Disorder. Does that make me abnormal?
I respect people. I change for me, and only me. I have a past, but I know I have a future.
Does that make me different?
Maybe.
But at least it makes me
Me.

FrostbiteNumbness
I can’t feel my toes and at first I think
It’s just my toes.
I can cover them up.
I can warm them.

It spreads, like fire,
Like ice.
I glance away for a second, it seems, and my feet are cold
Pat –pat
That’s funny, I didn’t feel that
Maybe I’ll cover them up too
I’ll warm them up.

I’ll take a nap
Maybe a short rest will make it all better, warm them
Up…
What’s that? How long has it been?
My legs… are you still mine..
Why has my breath left me, short?
Has everything but deserted me?

What about you, are you still here?
Are you still with me?
Hello?
And before I can say goodbye, I think my thoughts are leaving me too –

You'll Never Understand...You'll never understand...
But I'm glad you don't.
Because that would mean
You'd have to go through my pain.
And I'd never wish that
For you.

Dear fucked society,Dear fucked up society,
Why do you take our rights?
Our human rights?
To who we love?
To who we are.. To our image?
Tell me.

You force images down our throat;
Images of airbrushed, false looking
people. You want people to look
more skinny and cause anorexia,
More along the hidden line that
you dig under the ground like
a dead forgotten body yet always there

You show us that its not right to be gay,
lesbian, bi-sexual or transgendered..
And then wonder why the suicide rate is
so fucking high. You cause the nightmares
and terrors of our family not accepting us
our

Telling Childhood Goodnight.They were the fearless whispers through the starless night.
They were the pounding feet through the cobbled streets,
Screaming out for everything.
They were the fleeting memories of a time long gone by,
Blown away in the wind to a far away sky,
Where the air is cold and the stars never shine.

Memories leave their traces behind,
The scars on my legs from a day long gone by.
I was climbing a rock,
That would forever leave me with a flaw.

They were the youthful cries, screaming out.
They were the glowing eyes, on a fearless march,
Racing down the cobbled streets, blazing out for all to see.
The beacon of light that is now dying out,
I never wanted it to go away.
Everything is changing at a speed I can’t match,
I am drifting further every day.

It makes me want to cry that the best and worst days of my life,
Are being pushed away with every day that passes by.
I want to hold on
But each day I lose more ground.
Soon they will be gone without even a sound.

Th

Sleeping Beautyshe’s in love with a character who
never existed but in the labyrinth of her head:
a patchwork composition of beautiful, lengthy words
she’d heard in her catatonic state; coma living
day in and day out, reliant on the salvation
of a man made of foreign wishing
and imperfection and necessity – an ignorance
of the less than ideal perception of self she’d
come to fear, absention stained romantic to the point
where daydreams were a standard for survival

(real living is for the purposeful of heart,
he loves her in her sleep)

Silent and GoneAlong the blue streams of those who were simplistically glassed, I drag my wooden, empty coffin; it contains only my past.

For the many decades I've lengthened have expanded pain's time; across shallow mountains and beatings I prepare my final climb.

Through harsh mists and soft grasses the journey trembles on; days on end without my voices; alas, I realize they are gone.

Near all abandonment's shelter I rest without ease; my halved demon appears before me; she speaks hellishly in the breeze.

Forgiveness and hallucination she crisply burns in my eyes; I must awaken and continue, 'tis my time to remain wise.

To a judging stream near the g

I don't fight fair...Cut, bruised, scraped, forgotten. These things I have all been at least once in my life. But it
hasn't made me stronger, just more determined in my fight to live another day.
I know the ways of my attackers, studied their movements, learned their tricks and gleamed
their true motives. I have seen their weaknesses, their faults, theirs flaws and I have kept
them close to me, ready for use when the next time we meet.
They are cautious of me, they have weary from my adaptive ways, knowing that I can fall only
so many times. They are scared for I have the key to their defeat; not by sane ways, but by
the ways they fear to tread.
One look, one stare, one gesture and they will run in fear for the truth is upon them: "I won't
live restrained anymore."
"I have seen your errors an played on them like strings on a violin. Moved you to place were I
make the rules. Put you on display for all to see what you have done, and what will be done."

You ha

The WaitingBones hang from trees
Hollow windchimes rattling
In the sullen breeze

Dark clouds make noonday dusk
Rusted buttons on threadbare coats
Sorrow drips like rain

(From the fingertips of this dead-rose day)

Hoofprints kill the grass
Where the dark horse steps
The rider unsmiling

The tired and ill amble about
Cattle awaiting the shoulder tap
To sleep, but not to dream

(To become whatever the second birth dictates)

the carbon footprint of an arsonistyour crystal promise
rings drip off your glacial
fingers into global

nothings. the geodesic
dome you used to live in
is a hell you keep

clean-shaven and concentric,
spiraling away from you,
wrapping your unborn

children up in paper goblets.
for minimum wage, any geryon
would cling to the terza rima

inkblots on your
collarbones, his spongy molars
diving into your right

angles, his familiar laughs
killing your skin with
shivering cuddles and you

shudder, being self-diagnosed
at center of the universe,
your hair a nest of radio

waves, the one cosmic
principle drumming on the ancient
heart of mystery.

but amateur porn always
made you cry

Rose in her hand...I saw a girl she was there for days
sitting at the pavement
Not talking or looking around at anyone
She had a dark red rose in her hands
She was holding it so hard that the thorns
were digging into her skin..

I asked her "Are you alright?" She looked up, then back down at the rose, breathed in to say "Yes, I'm quite alright thank you." She was shaking, her hands were cut dripping with blood from the thorns. I told her "Don't clench it so hard, its fragile and your bleeding" She looked down further and shakily said "..Maybe.. Maybe I want to bleed" I got shocked at this and backed off I didn't want to make anything worse..
A few days went by..
The girl wasn't around,
I knew whereabouts she lived
So I went to see if she was okay
I saw a rose on the grass outside
her house.. Below a window..
A half open window, with the curtains
Drawn only about two inches

lifelinesI fear the sound of sparrows
and the density of leaves
against dew-muffled blades
of grass,

and I'm drowning
in the sky.

My skin has learned how
to peel itself off
without causing a commotion
in my marrows or
even show the slightest hint
of pain,
and my heart has learned how
to hush the stars in their wake
and keep it all a secret.

There's a sea in my mouth
and I can't swim.

There are lifelines
cast like these and it will
all end with the same tragedy.

of seafoam thronesFrom Atlas’ hands she wept to me,
atop Africas and South Atlantics;

this is one situation unaffected by
ember eyes and windy lashes
(it has no anatomy).

You are sparrows stranded
in tiny crevices and cliffside love,
though you rebuke flight
in the fear of chipping feathers.

So what do you do?

You reach for my soul,
coveting flight with shaking
dainty arms…

and perhaps I’ll let you:
With flytrap lips and
glass shaped hips…
you are unfit for anything but
sight.

(But beauty isn’t everything)

Happily AloneHonesty,
She does not have,
Personalities,
She has many of them.

A million shields,
a million personalities,
She's always changing,
to fit every person around her.

If one were to ask why,
she would answer with,
I will never reveal my weaknesses,
because she's evil.

She hates everyone,
stupider than her is barely tolerable,
smarter than her is too scary,
She hates it all.

She leaves the world behind,
To one she has dreamt of,
No color,
nobody else.

Then,
she will smile,
why,
because she is truly happy alone.

She is not evil,
She does not hate you,
She is not dishonest,
She simply wants to be alone.

A Charmed LifeDoll-faced men and sinkholes, ancient tombstones
Leaves piled ankle-deep, falling down
Old wells, old graves, old friends lost
Pirate adventures in Neverland
Don't go into that barn

Ponchoboy and Rangergirl rise from the ashes
From the cold river, from afar
Remember before they were born, how they
Held hands and jumped into the world
Don't go into that school

Ladybugs, pennies, notes from the dead sun eclipse
Scrape the inside of your skull for clues
All the old dreams are still there, petrified
You are a rock of ages gibbering
Don't go into that factory

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Iago, a Medieval VillainREAD DESCRIPTION FIRST (FOR THIS TO MAKE ANY SENSE AT ALL)

I have killed other humans. With the help of Cosimo de Medicci, together we have killed upwards of a dozen people.
I met Cosimo in school. We both went to the University of Oxford and graduated the same year. Our growing alliance met a pivotal point in our senior year.
There is... was... a woman by the name of Jessica. She was my first and only love. But when I saw her with another man, I snapped. It had to be done to prevent further damage to my heart. I killed her, and quite enjoyed it.
No one ever suspected the most honest person in school.
I have long since graduated and I work alongside dear Cosimo in his successful bank. I have been patient over the years, not killing if it wasn’t necessary. But now I am restless. I yearn for the thrill of it once again. I have a plan and want to put it into action. There are three others that live years away from me, and their names are Joe Walker, Tom Hiddleston, a

FlowersSome flowers are cool.
Some grow near pools.
Tulips are pretty.
Some flowers grow in cities.
Most flowers smell nice.
Some flowers have a price.
Daisies are sweet,
Lilies are a treat,
But roses are flowers
That beauty can’t beat.

Real LoveThis isn't for me or you specifically.
It's for both of us.
I love you.
Sometimes it may not feel
Like we love each other.
We may feel forgotten, cheated, or left out.
Yet, we know that we feel love.
Real love.
It's a love you can't buy or replace.
It's a love that lasts
And is never forgotten.
We can say all the
'Roses are red, Violets are blue...'
But just know that I'm crazy about you.
No love can compare to ours.
An e-mail or love letter
Doesn't hold a candle.
Our love is so powerful;
It's a love no one can handle.
Why do we fight? Why do we yell?
We care so much, that's why.
In times of distress,
We think of each other.
We know we are loved and in good hands.
In times when we are speechless,
There is one phrase that says it all.
I love you.
Nothing more, nothing less.
I love you.

A Friend?What is a friend?
Is a friend real or fake?
A best friend cares for you
And texts you when you wake.
A feigning friend is what most people have.
That feels much worse
Than a smooth salve.
That "friend" is not true at all.
A real friend is always fun to be with,
And can go with you to the mall.
The fake friend hurts you
Even if they don't admit it.
Deep down,
You're the one that's in pain every bit.
A short-term friendship isn't good.
A long, lasting friendship
Is one you have since your childhood.
If you have a tue friend,
Good for you.
Be proud if you have a friend that’s
Asian, Hispanic, or Jew.
A person that causes you pain,
And makes even one wisecrack;
That's when you know you should turn your back.
Choose your friends with care,
Because you should always know
Whether they're here or there.
Stay with your beastie until the end.
And again I ask you,
What is a friend?

Fan GirlsThere are many different
Types of fan girls.
Some have straight hair
And some have curls.
Most fan girls love a person, show, or band
And are crazy for them.
They worship that person
And treat them like a priceless gem.
Fan girls can love a certain boy or man
That could be a singer, artist, or actor.
That guy could be the ugliest person in the world,
But the fan girl absolutely loves any one factor.
Some girls go to every concert
Their favorite singer or band is in.
They scream, sing, and dance to his or their music
And melt when they see him grin.
Most fan girls have to have
A picture or poster of who they love.
Any fan girls without pictures
Are the ones I've never heard of.
Many fan girls are obsessed with certain
Movies or TV shows.
These girls practically preach about that show or film
So everybody knows.
A fan girl can be a tremendous fan
Of anyone and anything.
They can bow down to it

Blue EyesI seem to like guys
With blue eyes.
Blue eyes tell me
That that guy tells no lies.
Blue eyes tell me a story,
Even though I don't know what it really is.
I'm attracted to guys with blue eyes
Like WWE Superstar, The Miz.
Brown, green, and even hazel eyes
Don't make me feel the way I do about the blues.
My reason for that is because
They don't give me any clues.
Men with blue eyes
Make it easy for me to say, hello.
Few people call Richard Starkey
By his real name.
I call him Ringo.
Ringo has possibly the bluest eyes
I have ever seen!
It's a shame he hides them with sunglasses
In every picture in a magazine.
Blue eyes leave me in a trance.
They cannot make me
Just take a quick glance.
So, that is the end of my blue-eyed tale.
Just remember that
Blue eyes look hot on any male.

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Submitted: November 23, 2012
Submitted with: Sta.sh Writer

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Manga, I Love You

by ~MichelleAndTheBeatle, Nov 23, 2012, 4:27:45 PM
Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

I don't know how it happened.

One minute she was her talkative, caring self.

The next, she's having a hard time breathing and she's extremely weak.

Manga, I love you.

We got to the hospital, expecting the worst.

My family was there, not looking anything but sad.

I walked into the room where they kept her.

The minute I saw my mom, I cried.

She was bent over, kissing my grandma on the head.

Manga, I love you.

Her eyes were closed, breathing short but loud.

Almost like gasps.

The nurse was kind, giving my grandmother medicine through a tube.

Drip, drip.

The dripping of the IV mimicked my tears freely rolling down my cheeks.

She opened her eyes for a second.

They were looking away from me, glazed over.

In the next second they closed once more.

Little did I know, that was the last time I'd see her brown eyes open.

My mom cried. My dad cried. My brother cried.

I cried.

Manga, I love you.

I stepped outside to take a breather.

It was a long breather.

The nurse said something I couldn't hear.

The room tensed.

I was still oustide.

My dad ran into the room my grandmother was kept in.

I heard my mom wail as the door was closed.

Everyone waiting outside was quiet.

We all looked around at one another, waiting for an answer.

Eventually, they began to mumble.

My brother asked me what was happening.

I told him that she was done.

Manga, I love you.

After what seemed like an eternity, the door opened.

My father, a usually firm man, came out.

He was sobbing.

That's when I lost it.

'Manga's in heaven now,' he said.

My dad came to my brother and I and we stood in a hug.

We cried.

Everyone present cried.

'She was suffering so much,' he said.

'Now she's finally comfortable'.

I had to comfort my mom.

She could not stop crying.

The next step was to decide if I should see the body.

I was wary at first.

I waited until everyone had their turn.

Then, I finally went in.

Her face was pale, for that was all I could see under the blankets.

It was wrinkless. Pure.

Calm and at peace.

It was what she deserved after suffering for so long.

Manga, I love you.

I stayed in the hospital with my parents and family for a while.

We were forced to leave by six o'clock.

I left feeling sick and exhausted.

The journey home was strange.

The news hadn't really set in yet.

We were all still putting the peices together.

We arrived home.

I went to my room and cried some more.

I cried and cried.

She was an absolutely amazing woman.

Never cursed in her life.

Went to church every day.

Kissed her grandchildren until our ears hurt from the noise of the 'smooch'.

She loved and lived her life.

Just as she loved us, I loved her ten fold.

Manga, I love you so much.

Manga, I Love Youby ~MichelleAndTheBeatle

Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

My grandmother died today. November 23, 2012 at 4:00 pm. I miss her so much...

~KikkoPirate Nov 24, 2012 Student Photographer

Ah.......Damn, I'm so sorry I couldn't comment sooner. I may not know exactly what you're going through, but I do know we share similar feelings. My dad died September 24, 2012 at 9:30 am. Just know you're not alone. STAY STRONG MICHELLE!!!

~MichelleAndTheBeatle Nov 25, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Thanks so much! And I'm really sorry about your dad...

~KikkoPirate Nov 25, 2012 Student Photographer

Don't be. People die everyday and it's just part of life. My greatest advice to you is to keep living. Of course it won't always be easy, but just repeat those words to yourself when you're feeling down. I think your grandmother would want that.....I know my dad did.

~MichelleAndTheBeatle Nov 25, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Aww, thanks so much

~KikkoPirate Nov 25, 2012 Student Photographer

Anytime!

~weirdoshmo Nov 24, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

<3 you're in my thoughts and prayers...

~MichelleAndTheBeatle Nov 24, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you so much! I really appreciate it

~DreamArtCore Nov 23, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

Oh...oh no...I'm so sorry!

~MichelleAndTheBeatle Nov 24, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Thanks...

~LadyLoki516 Nov 23, 2012

So Sorry. Both of my grandparents died within 3 months of each other when I was 10 years old. I never got to talk to them properly, as I never learned how to fully speak spanish. I only saw them in person once, for about 2 months.

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