we build ourselves up *(might make this into spoken word)

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we build ourselves up

only to be torn down

by the words of those

who feel like hurting us will make them better

or that being better than us means bringing us down

we have become experts

at picking up the pieces

and putting them back

as best we can

but in our own eyes

we become a puzzle with missing pieces



something to be discarded

we too easily conform to the so called “norm”

eager to fit in

we forget our dreams

we forget everything that made us us

happiness becomes just another far away place

first class seats only

we wonder if it’s possible

to remember who we are

and who we want to be

will there ever be another day

where we aren’t bound by the rusty chains of our privileged



her mind has become a leaf

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her mind has become a leaf

each spring
as the sun melts the remnants
of winter’s last storm
a budding though trickles in
sprouting greener than any other

in the summer
that thought flourishes
soaking up the sun and
provides a cool place
for others to lay

but as the heat strengthens
those leaves dry and become brittle
but she doesn’t mind
because she loves the reds and oranges
that surround her

in fact

she can’t think of anything she loves more

when finally
short days are followed by cool nights
and the wind knocks loose the leaves
her mind rests peacefully
knowing this cycle is vital to her survival


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tell us when to go
when to hold up
and when to turn

dictating our lives
like only our souls can

cautioning our foot on that pedal
in the same way we build walls around our hearts


tires screech
as metal clashes on metal

hearts are broken
as lives are lost
or put in harm’s way

what is a driver without a stoplight?

if we cannot rely on even this guidance
what hope do we have in the rest of the world?

unbeknownst to me

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unbeknownst to me
the world stopped turning
for a day and a day only
we were free to live our lives
to our hearts desire

until the sun fell below the tree line
to the east
and darkness consumed
our wildest of dreams

I hear it again

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I hear it again
the faint ticking
much like that of crickets
outside a summer window

the voice
crystal clear
in even the largest of crowds
my un-subdued conscious

it guides me
my own north star
and my internal compass
it is all that is good

I thought it was gone forever
my days continually spiraled down a black hole
I heard little but the shadowy white noise
of this world

which cares little of me

I welcome
its candor and beauty
with open ears
and a full heart

I am

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I am
not just another girl
who sits patiently and
waits to be served on a silver platter

taken care of
yet pushed aside
waiting and the awaited

thoughtful but unspoken

I am
not another woman
who layers her face in shades of color
as if to place it on a pedestal

afraid of the eyes that stare
with vicious judgment
and the murmurs that await

outspoken by all those around

I am
an individual
strong and independent
I cut my own paths

never looking around
never seeking attention
laying a hand on the shoulder of all those around me

I am undoubtedly me

I watched

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I watched
the ball fall off the shelf
light penetrating though its crystal surface
shooting in rays in all directions

I watched in slow motion
as if gravity had slowed
taking in the balls beauty
as it transcends upon its fate

in an instant
the light was shut off
shards of crystal shatter about the ground
like stars in the darkest of night skies

a prettier picture than what was seen before
for only fate can transform us in un-thought ways