Naked

Everyone is blunt in Junior High, I suppose. A struggle for who you are, leaves us naked and standing in the middle of a sea of cowards, who are we to know that we are not judged. And who are we to say we don't judge others? I suppose you could revert, back to something you were. Or climb into yourself, pretend that nothing is wrong as you stumble with glazed eyes. You could shine. Be stripped of all you are and embrace the glowing core. 'Fire away! Your best bullets, your best soldiers!' And fully loaded with grotesque words, who are they to fire their words? They slip off your naked body, coated with Vaseline. Your shine is enough to subdue them. 'Fire away!'

Miscellaneous

Nothing is ever out of context. It just needs its own place. Walking through is like dream, the destination blurred. The destination is miscellaneous, no one knows its way. Wading through the bobbing heads, and no one knows youre there. Sliding through or fighting past- you will never get there, either way.

Big Girl Now

Not a little girl. I still write stories. I still write poems. That heartache thing is starting again, even though ive tried to stop. Ive tried to dispatch myself, the faces rushing by. Walking through the halls is like floating, where im taken is a surprize.

This Little Girl

This little girl writes stories, this little girl writes poems. This little girl has a life, and this is the place where it's told.
This little girl can marvel, this little girl can gawk. She stares at the little things, and the beauty of the small.
This little girl isnt so little anymore, but she knows shes a child. She still has a lot of things to go through, and thats why dating can wait.