Stoem

Stoem(n): Stolen lines from other poets put together and made into a new poem.

The rose that grew from concrete

Laughing a challenge to the raindrops, daring them to make us leave

The red washing down the bathtub can't change the color of the sea at all

A warm domestic chaos spells life without care

And I dream too much, and I don't write enough, and I'm trying to find God everywhere

A young heart with an old soul, how can there be peace

The cancer that invades our ancestors' defiled dreams

Rehearsed in silence.

Brought to light

If you really knew me, you've seen me naked at least once

If you really knew me we've shared bloodshot eyes together

If you knew me like my bed you'd think I'm lonely, 

but if you knew me like other people's couches you'd think I'm loved.

If you knew me like my desk you'd think I always sleep, 

but my bedroom thinks I'm an insomniac.

If you really knew me, the walls must have told you what I do when no one's looking.

And if you knew me like the sun you'd see an innocent bystander, 

but if you knew me like the moon you'd see a criminal.

If you knew me like the floor you'd think I don't pay enough attention to you,

and if you knew me like the ceiling you'd think I like to stare.

Cause I'm always looking up.

Yes I am an optimist, but I feel like shit too sometimes.

You think just cause I don't tell people when things are hard I don't go through hard things?

If you really knew me, you'd know my Mom died when I was 8.

You'd know I lived in Vegas, but had to move do to a crazy stepmom.

You'd know that I've moved like 7 times since, and people say moving sucks.

But I've met a lot of amazing people.

If you really knew me you'd know I've been through some shit; 

even tho I haven't been comfortable enough in my own skin to reflect on it myself, I know I have.

If you really knew me you'd know I still don't give a fuck either.

Pen Names are overrated anyway

Everyone is so afraid.

Afraid that things will change.

Afraid that the popular kids will get more comments than the popular writers,

and the popular writers will be forgotten.

Every person in my class is so afraid of being revealed.

Well you must be insecure.

Didn't we already learn how to write down our insecurities and forget them?

So why are you still?

Or is it because all your insecurities are posted on your blog; secured where people can find them?

At least now, people they know the real you.

At least now, they know how fake you were.

At least now, they know how real you've been.

And all the fake people will leave, and hang with the fakes.

And all the reals will hang with the reals.

Can't you see it's better to live life without closed doors?

That's why I'm happy to be revealed.

I don't know how much longer I could've stayed concealed.

And if I have to wait another god damn day without knowing who Courtney Rome is, or Roslyn Luna Grey, or any of my favorite writers are;

Then cue the depression from the happiness I haven't experienced with them.

And if I have to wait another god damn day to find out who that cry for help came from in mid October it might be too late for me to help that Pen Name I already forgot. 

I'm tired of waiting, and it's time to reveal.

My name to you on this blog thingy is peepleizdum, but if I see you at school call me 

Parker Johnson

Also here's a few pics for peeple that don't know me.

Halloween 2015

First day of school feat. my little sisters

Me and my bro this summer

You

You are the vibrant rays of the sun shining threw my storm clouds.

And the subtle breeze that can warm my spirit or chill me to the bone.

You are the moon pulling the tide in, and I am the ocean.

And the farther you distance yourself I am at low tide.

However, you are not the birds singing that beautiful song every morning.

There is no way you are the birds, you don't like to sing in front of anyone.

And you are certainly not the cheerleader girl, you're way too cool to care.

A quick glance in the mirror will show that you are the most beautiful girl out there,

But you wont let my uplifting words consume your thoughts.

It is possible that you are the girl dangling her feet off the edge wondering how fast you would fall.

I am the boy falling for you, faster to soften the blow.

But don't worry, I am not the boy that pushed you off.

You are still the one falling, and refuse to survive the fall.

I am still here as your ocean, and as you fall my tides grow stronger.

So even if I only cover 71% of the places you could fall..

With you this close, I'm right beneath you.

Music

I like music. I like rap. I like a funky tune. If you like theses things listen to Jurassic 5 at least once a day. It just makes you want to groove, and makes you happy. MUSIC HAS POWER.

Underneath the surface

Underneath the surface I'm floating.

Sorry I can't hear you I'm too busy swimming in my thoughts, and when I listen you sound like you're gargling salt water.

I'm underneath the surface where you can't find me, but you insist that we go hiking.

Sometimes I dive just to see if I can touch the bottom, or if I'll be crushed under the pressure before reaching it.

My heart has spoken

Dear filthy human,

You have to stop giving loans cause they never get returned in full, and they bring me back cold.

Even though we grew, and now I'm older; you drown out the experience.

And I can't remember the last time I was sober.

You allow women to come in and walk all over leaving just as quick as the came; only with a longer space in-between.

They leave me with cracks all over, and you ignore me.

I don't want to live with you anymore if it means I have to live being unseen.

And these strings that sewed the cracks together didn't get the attention needed.

They are frayed at the ends looking for another spark to bind them;

Although I don't want you to find another heart I know you will find them.

So please find one that has a lighter, or a burning passion for you like a raging fire;

Cause the next time you find someone cold we'll both die of hypothermia.

Sincerely, your fragile heart

My blue ticket heart

My heart was twice the size of my brain blinding me from the reality that we wouldn't work.

You didn't have a heart, and you were much smarter than I was.

So for a while we made the perfect fit.

Two humans imperfect and different that equaled two perfect humans together.

I should've known better than to give you half of my heart with the goal of making you feel.

You took it from me with a blank stare, like you didn't know how to use it.

I couldn't teach you due to my lack of smarts, and now normal sized heart.

So as a toddler with toy trains that gets amusement out of them crashing, you played with it.

You grew out of the toddler stage now an adolescent

Making complex crash courses with longer tracks only to allow these trains to gain speed

Your ultimate goal was to destroy.

Well you were much smarter than I was, and you knew how to reach your goals.

That half of my heart you handed back damaged and with cracks.

Still desperate to reach my goal I peeled strips off my remaining half and patched yours together.

And once your half had healed, mine started to wither.

Then you left me after being fixed, and I grew bitter.

Without those few strips that held it in place, my heart detached itself and fell into scraps.

My heart was twice the size of my brain blinding me from the reality that we wouldn't work.

Well I can see clearly now.  

I miss you

I haven't figured out how to win your heart

And I still can't tell you how beautiful you looked the day you left me

Like a fire needs oxygen to grow and a heart needs blood to keep beating

I miss you, and wish there was a way I could've stopped you from leaving

And I don't know what it's like to go through what you go through, but like a worker bee to his queen I'm always right there for you

I wish I could have done enough to keep you here

Cause losing you was worse than my biggest fear

And I know if I woke up in the middle of the night with a ghost in the corner staring into my soul

I would still miss you more than the kid crying over his bike that the next door teenager just stole

And the ghost would leave after seeing my soul is empty

From the void you filled that the last girl left me

You left just the same with a less than adequate excuse for a heart

I was now the one silent, and I don't know where to start

But I know that I still miss you like a robot missing his heart

P.S I still love you, and haven't found a way to suppress these feelings yet.

How to be depressed

It holds you down like a coat made of lead

You hang it up every morning and suppress what was said

The cracks of despair whisper into your ear

Just quiet enough for only you to hear

If I could just hear what you hear from those cracks of despair

I'd be able to tell you those cracks tell lies

They continue to whisper bonding you in false ties

Sinking you under the weight of your eyes

The voices get louder, all they want is your demise

With voices so loud you can't hear the truth

These voices prey on heart crippled youth

You're not the only one, so you best not speak

You can't tell a soul while you drown in defeat

At a battle that's never won feeling like rocks are tied to your feet

Slowly dragging yourself away from others

Less communication with sisters and brothers and ones you called lovers

No more good mornings or good nights 

Just mornings and nights and more frequent fights to push through the day

You push a smile on your face to avoid what people might say

You push your own way, as you push others close to you away

You can't see what your doing like a headless chicken still moving

And they can't see what your doing like living in a dream where you're still fooling them

Your mind shuts down anything making you feel

Numbing you to the point your heart turns to steel

Incapable of love, yet full of compassion

Able to understand others and help them gain traction

You lift others, but refuse to be lifted

While continuing to drown in an abyss of depression

With a coat made of lead, and a heart turned to steel.

Selfish love

This was a selfish love
Love came into his life breathtakingly
She didn't have to say a word
He would do his best to try and talk to her
To make an effort

This was a selfish love
Love soon became a part of his life like a dream
The dream was a mix-tape
And it always got stuck on the track of me and you
The dream played loud and proud and didn't care who heard
Because the sound of me and you together was something beautiful

This was a selfish love
Love became a daily routine
Love became a "How's your day been?"
"It's been good."
I wish you would just tell me what's really going on..
Love became "Sorry I have plans with other people and can't see you this week."
"Well that's okay I just wanted to let you know I love you and wish we could spend more time together.."

This was a selfish love
Love became a stressed mess ready to poop like a zit on your forehead
Love didn't know how to communicate properly
Love tried not to let things bother her, but he could see right through her mask and it bothered him
Love didn't speak of it
And when he brought it up she'd burst into silence
This is what love looked like when she shut down

This was a selfish love
Love slowly got better at hiding her emotions
And we would go through the motions just like we used to
Love slowly got worse at being herself, and he began to not recognize her
Love pushed him away anytime he tried to help, and all he wanted was to fix her
Love was a shattered mirror and he didn't realize that if he put her back together love still had cracks

This was a selfish love
Love seemed just fine and everything was back to that dreamlike state
Love was that mix-tape that got stuck playing the beautiful track of me and you
Love skipped tracks and said, "it's not you, it's me."
Love said she needed to love herself before she could love someone the way they should be
And I don't want to sound selfish, but I hope she finds a selfish love.
Now you see, Love was a fixed shattered mirror, and as he stared at his love one last time he realized his cracks matched hers and he became selfish love.

Sometimes

When I see people I ask them how they are and respond with I'm good too.

Even tho sometimes I'm really not.

People see me in the hallways with a smile on my face trying to talk to anyone I make eye contact with.

To tell the truth tho, sometimes I don't feel like talking.

If I'm at a party you better believe I'm going hard.

Although sometimes I really wish I hadn't.

I really love sports and played a lot growing up, but never kept with any.

And sometimes I wish I had.

I think about all the things that I've done and all the good from those decisions. 

But sometimes I think about what might happen if I didn't make those decisions, and if they'd be better.

I try and be as happy as can be and look at everything in a positive way.

And sometimes it would be really easy to focus on the negative.

I wish I could tell everyone how I really feel all the time.

Sometimes it's just easier to keep it in.

Society thinks that people with successful lives tend to be more happy.

Yet sometimes those people wish they were able to disappear.

And sometimes they do.

Well I'm not that successful, and I feel like I'm a fairly happy person.

But sometimes, I don't want to go outside.

I think I like being lied to.. idk

I am afraid of people because they are all hiding something.

I'm afraid of people that tell me the truth because I know that it's not always true.

I'm afraid of what people tell me to believe; they're just feeding me different lies.

I'm afraid of what people tell me of others cause they are lies.

I'm afraid of what people say about me cause I know that they lie.

I'm afraid of what people think about me, and if they've been told these lies.

I'm afraid of people that care about me cause I know it's just a lie that is held onto longer.

I'm afraid of people that love me cause they lie in order to protect me from the truth.

I'm afraid of people that hate me cause they tell lies to the one's that still love me.

I'm afraid of the truth and how many lies I've been told cause I've been told the truth hurts.

I'm afraid of the innocent bystander cause he lies to me when he has a bad day.

I'm afraid of my teachers cause they lie, and are required to teach me these lies every day.

I'm afraid of the law cause it lies to me about what I can and can't do.

I'm afraid to tell the truth and be different cause the law states that everyone is equal.

It's not true freedom if it has restrictions, but we are told by the government these restrictions help us.

I'm afraid of the government cause it lies to me about the rest of the world.

I'm afraid of the world cause it's full of lies without ends.

I'm afraid because the only time lies end is when they are sealed with spilled blood.

I'm afraid that I've been taught to lie cause telling the truth is rude and not how we're meant to behave.

I'm afraid that if I tell the truth people will get hurt cause I don't believe them.

I'm afraid that if I tell the truth people will worry that I'm so concerned.

I'm afraid that if I tell that innocent bystander to tell the truth he'll go shoot up a school to release those suppressed emotions. 

I'm afraid that if the government tells the truth we'll be the real villains depicted as heroes, and be forced to continue in these wars that we fight for the innocent bystander.

I am afraid of people because they hide things, and I am afraid if I tell the truth people will just think it's another lie.

Picture

Life cannot be captured in a picture.

So why do we take so many pictures in life to try and explain it?

Why do we create memories that are life changing or breath taking, but can't seem to connect with them unless we have physical proof?

A picture.

Why can't we just remember them?

Did they not mean enough?

Were they not as important?

What makes a memory have greater value over another?

Can't we all agree that watching a 3 year old slip on ice is a lesson learned to be more careful around things we don't understand?

Even tho that 3 year old remembers a lesson learned not to step on that cold white stuff.

How we choose to remember something is what makes it important.

How we remember that experience is what gives it value;

And how we reflect on that experience, or memory is what makes it have great or little value.

Alive

I AM ALIVE.

I feel the subtle breeze chill my hands to a stinging numbness.

I feel the cool air fill my lungs as I inhale.

I feel the warmth of my breath that brushes my lips as I exhale;

letting me know that my heart is still beating on fire.

I can feel the sureness of a bench that holds me in place telling me that it will never let me fall.

I can hear ducks begging to be fed making the noise of their groaning stomach.

I listen to the sweet song of a bird calling for company as I sit here unwavering.

I notice the grit of sticks and rubble beneath my feet with my brain telling me which one I'm feeling.

I feel the scrape of a branch across my cheek with a tree telling me not to leave so soon.

I feel the heat of the sun as it illuminates the entire world above me, and remembered to keep me warm.

I smell the sweetness in the air that the woods use to comfort me when alone.

I feel the grip of a  muddy whole around my foot telling me that it's always ignored, and just wanted to be noticed.

I know that I am alive because other living and nonliving things acknowledge my existence.

Expectations

Right this way to your dismay you'll never meet your expectations.

Like robots that try to feel or penguins that try to fly we all have limitations.

As a robot we do as we are told and expect exact results;

The problem is that we short circuit, or come up short cause we all have our faults.

Robot's that turn cold and grow old of not feeling complete or satisfied. 

We need upgrades, we need updates to compete with the other guy.

Our faulty equipment needs mending and new parts do to the vacancy of a heart.

Never knowing what emotion is occurring we fill the vacancy w/ restarts, reboots and troubleshoots.

Trying to correct our problems and find a connection, but never meeting the expectation.

As a penguin we try to fly, and learn how to fall properly. 

Our short stubby legs don't waddle fast, but have found other ways to move swiftly.

We fall or slip, then slide on our bellies to avoid head trauma.

We males must sit for months to hatch an egg, and deal with baby drama.

We are in the cold, but keep our hearts warm.

As we grow old we reflect on what we were, and weren't able to do; with what harm?

How we didn't have much, but did what we could with what we had.

Took care of our babies and made sure they had full bellies, even if we missed lunch as their dad.

It's hard to reach expectations when our arms don't reach above our head.

So why do we set ourselves up for failure with expectations to high to grab? 

It's what keeps us going, keeps us reaching, and keeps us attempting to fly.

If we reached our expectations our motivation to truly live would surely die.

BRICKS ARE HEAVY

My bones are bricks made of lead; My skin is just the sticky stuff holding them together.

Bricks that weigh me down and collapse into a pile at the end of the day.

Bricks that make me feel heavy, like there's an unbearable weight on my chest.

206 bricks in my body with each weighing 6 pounds making me 1,236 lbs of emotional weight;

206 bones in my body with each weighing less a pound making me 130 lbs of actual weight.

How can I only be 10% real of the other 90% I feel?

10% is what you see with 90% below the surface.

90% is the barrier bricks build around real feeling with a trap door inside sending you down a spiraling staircase of emotion.

Emotion so raw and unseen too powerful to release; Concealed and never forgotten these nagging emotions never do cease to let go of their hold on me.

Tearing me down brick by brick my wall of insides left with empty holes only to be filled with chilling winds.

My wall begins to stagger, then crumbles and falls.

Each brick as motionless as before, my wall lays broken and in pieces on the floor.

People don't stop to rebuild me, and instead walk over that 90% of me that lays broken and exposed.

That 90% of me is ignored the same as when I kept it hidden from others.

So what's the point in hiding anymore?

Drained

I've been drained of my energy, nothing left but a slowly beating heart for you to listen.

I've been drained of my thoughts, no longer thinking of anything except for you.

I've been drained of my smile, no longer happy unless I see you happy too.

My soul feels drained of life, left empty and dry without you.

My arms drained of their strength unless they get to hold you.

My legs are drained and tremble to walk, but for you I could run.

Drained of my appetite, my stomach groans constantly, whose hunger only you could satisfy. 

Drained of my fear replaced with hope and cheer for you and I.

Drained of my peace, with you my thoughts never do cease to manipulate my emotions.

Drained of my sanity, with you my brain can't see the difference between flaws or perfection.

Drained of my smoothness, when I'm with you I trip over and over again on my two left feet.

Drained of my love for others cause when I'm with you I give it all away.

I am drained of everything, hoping I can drain the same amount out of you to be full again.

Friendzoned

I'm just trying to lasso in the last exasperated thought and put it into syllables, words, phrases, paragraphs, pages and pages and pages I could write about my love for you.

And maybe I don't know the meaning of being stoned, but when I first met you somebody threw a boulder at my heart.

You see when I think of you and me, I see you and me kissing in that tree during recess that everyone always talked about when we were younger.

When I think of you and me, I see me passing you a note in grade school; as time stands still for the second you take to write back.

Now we're in high school, and when I think of you and me..

I see you devastated by that jerk that shredded what was left of your heart into scraps, and me trying to pick up the pieces hoping it will be the last one.

Your complexion of beauty so drastically distorted by your personality of care, affection, love, and occasional sassy-ness; making you beyond what is beautiful.

You: spinning spinning spinning, so lost in the pandemonium of who kissed Joe, worrying about it and asking all your friends if they know?

JUST LET IT GO.

So I finally muster up the courage to tell you what's been on my mind all these years, and say..

"I just wanted to let you know how true your beauty is, and would like to know if you would.."

-But before I manage to say another word, you say, "Lets just be FRIENDS."

Perfect People

Perfect people don't exist.

People walk with heads held high like they're important.

Others walk looking down at the ground cause they know they aren't.

Neither is true, the stature of a man does NOT imply his importance as a person.

You walk with your head higher than others as if they were below you.

Your head droops low as if you're below them. 

Little did you know, you might be best friends if your eyes ever met.

Little did you try to know that cocky bastard; that really could be just as afraid of people as you are on the inside.

Little patience he had to wait for your head to come up, so he could see if you were worth his time.

Anyone you ever meet will put up a front.

If you cared enough about someone you'd try, and break IT down.

People pass each other by picking, and choosing who they will talk to.

Well pick yourself up to look around, or pull your head down to see what's in front of you.

It will give you more choices to pick from; if you're still picky about who you talk to.

Perfect people don't exist, but you can try and find them.

If perfect people existed, you wouldn't try and hide them.

WE ARE ALL ROBOTS

We are all programmed to go about our day as if nothing were wrong

(01010)

We all decide to go to school, or the programmer corrects us

(10101)

We all have a good day, unless the programmer says otherwise

(011010)

We all feel everything on the inside, and nothing on the outside unless the programmer says we can (1101011)

We all talk small until the programmer makes our circuits bigger

(01011010)

We all have thoughts, but we don't share them unless the programmer tells us to

(0110110)

We all have feelings, but don't feel them unless the programmer lets us

(101101101)

We all learn new things, but don't remember unless the programmer makes us

(010010)

We all want to help each other break out of this programming, but the programmer separates us 

(0-1-1-0-1-1-0)

The programmer sees us differently than we see ourselves; stone faced, expressionless, empty chested

(00000)

The programmer has no care for you, so what's the point of even trying?

If you do he'll leave you disconnected.

well guess what programmer, I don't feel like dying.

Most won't fight it, we aren't programmed to.

Then again, machines don't always do what they're programmed to do.

#different

Normally I'd try and hit your soul with something, 

or get you to think about something in a different way; 

But this time I'm going to be silly,

 and try and lighten the mood with a story.

A wild poop rolled by on the floor next to Sarah and said, "Hello, my name is Thomas. What's your name?" And Sarah said, "Shup Thomas!.. oh crap why did I say shup." And Thomas was so offended she said the "c" word so he cried and turned into soggy poop. The soggy poop decided he would try and visit Sarah in his new liquid form; He oozed out of the shower head while Sarah was on the potty. Then Thomas asked, "Are you making me a friend?" Thomas felt lonely because most people don't like soggy poop.

But Sarah wasn't pooping, and he was sad. But her dog was pooping, and Sarah named his poop Karli. She was pretty poop. Thomas thought to himself, "If only I could spend a day with her; I would want nothing more in my soggy life than to a hard poop in it." So Thomas asked Sarah a favor, "would you be able to put in a good word for me? I know I'm soggy, but my feelings for Karli are real." They started to go on a dates every week, and Karli found a new love for Thomas. She realized that although he was squishy in the middle, he also had a kind and squishy heart. 

They moved to Shitsville to start a family, and a new life together. Thomas then realized how hard it was to find a job as a squishy poop. Sarah owned a store in Shitsville, but Thomas forgot about her because he replaced her with Karli. She was bitter so she didn't help him. He started drying up, and Karli realized he wasn't so squishy after all. Karli's love for Thomas started to fade after he got hard.

He became more obsessed with his body, and wasn't giving her enough attention. She started to cheat on him while he was at the gym with his buddies getting harder. Then Karli started getting very sick, frequently in the mornings. It was inevitable, and after the test, she came to find that she was pregnant with the local fly's kid! Thomas was very happy, and thought that they were going to have a baby boy. Little did Thomas know what was going on when he went to the gym.

9 months later, Thomas is delivering the baby. Excited to see his baby boy he reaches out to hold him in his arms. When suddenly, the poop child sprouted wings and flew away shouting, "You could never be my father, you can't even fly you fool!" Thomas"s heart was broken. It began to swell, and became 10 sizes too big! He could no longer hold himself up, and fell on top of Karli smashing her with his incredible weight. Thomas was unable to move, then shortly after died from his heart exploding. Karli could not undo what had been done, and lied under Thomas suffocating to her death.

Color My Soul

Color me every color in the spectrum. 

Color me red for my controlled temper ready to burst.

Color me green for being a jealous bastard for no reason.. I need to work on that.

Color me yellow for my vibrant and unique personality. Able to get along with anyone, relate to anything, and be there for everything.

Color me purple for the girly parts of me that will love shopping and cooking forever.

Color me orange for my strange sense of adaptability to a red or a yellow.

Color me blue cause I'm way to emotional to be a man.

Never can seem to not fall in love, I guess you'll have to color me pink.

Or color me black like the emptiness in my heart for the people that take that love for granted.

Color me magenta or turquoise for Christ sake, I have so many mixed feelings sometimes I don't know what color I would be.

Maybe I'm plaid.. Or a strange mix of colors on a hipsters shirt that's supposed to be "abstract".

Take my soul and sift through the different colors there.. And you still won't know all my true colors.

Remember, there are colors of the spectrum that can't be seen.

Something's Wrong

Every day feelin like I'm alright

Time for bed, but I can't sleep at night.

Something's in my head and won't go away

Trying not to worry just want to play.

With my thoughts I'm never insecure

In my brain I'm always unsure.

Time to spit just let it flow

Always holding on, time to let go.

Let loose lifted in my head, grey goose got a fifth by the bed

Dippin in the purple got me drippin like I'm urkled

Stop the trippin,

Time to take tips from the teacher bitchin

When I don't care bout the shit that they frontin,

In their heads thinkin that they really somethin

Got me long gone by the first five minutes,

Thinkin bout the bars in my head throwin fits

Not let out enough like your kids pet,

Feelin upset, to the point I wanna pretend

My best friend didn't cross me with my girlfriend,

Killin pain with mary jane got me feelin sane..

Makin wrong decisions every day,

no more caring what people say

My days feelin blurred,

My words soundin slurred

I'm scatter brained stickin to the shattered window pain,

Staring into my soul broken and sinister

Strippin my skin off into a minister,

Preachin to the kids, tell em to punch a Mr.

Poppin off like they possessed by lucifer,

Droppin out like a leaf on a connifer

Robbin the elderly,

Rackin cash up and sellin trees

Fuck a hitlist they hittin snitches,

Put their face to the curb they gettin stitches

Rip off the band-aid, 

Tip off the planned raid

These niggahs don't play,

Coming for your family in the day

Tie em to the bed and hear the screams,

Rape em cause they're soulless rotten fiends

They'll kill em soon so you won't hear it for long,

In my head there's something wrong.

Wishing I Was A Kid Again

Wake up, wake up, wake up.
Going to school, better look my best.
I'm at school, gotta put a smile on my face,
It's first period, and I'm already too tired to keep my eyes open.

Wake up, wake up, wake up.
It's lunch time, but I'm too stressed about my test next period that I can't eat.
Finally done with that test, now it's time to go home and eat.
Well now I have work, grab something quick, can't be late.

Wake up, wake up, wake up.
Time for my 4 hour shift, better ignore my stomach.
work work work, no time for play.
Get home feeling drained with too much homework to do.

Wake up, wake up, wake up.. only to do it again the next day.

I WANT TO KEEP SLEEPING.
Take me back to when I never cared what I looked like at school.
Take me back to when I would cry at school cause my crayon broke.
Take me back to when there used to be nap time.

I NEVER WANT TO WAKE UP.
Take me back to when the only true test I had was coloring in the lines with my crayons.
Take me back to when the hardest work I ever did was play at recess.
Take me back to when I used to have snack time.

IN A DREAM-LIKE STATE.
Take me back to when the only work I had was making sure I ate my vegetables.
Take me back to when I didn't know what work was and only knew how to play.
Take me back to when I was a kid, away from all the stress of the world.
And if you can't take me back then please hide me forever, or at least until I'm ready.

Tipping my hat

Tipping my hat to the girl with the tat.

Tipping my hat to the guy that looks.. overweight.

Tipping my hat to the girl up to bat.

Tipping my hat to the guy that skates.

Tipping my hat to the girl with the big nose.

Tipping my hat to the guy in ragged clothes.

Tipping my hat to the girl that smokes.

Tipping my hat to the guy that's shy, and when he speaks up he chokes.

Tipping my hat to the girls that are ignored.

Tipping my hat to the guys that notice them.

Tipping my hat to the one's that are lonely.

Tipping my hat to the one's that are loved.

Tipping my hat to the one's in the back row, never showing up unless they're forced to go.

Tipping my hat to the one's always on time, with glasses and a ready to learn look in their eye.

Tipping my imaginary hat to the guy that just stole mine, he may have needed it more than me.

Tip your hat if you hate being judged.

Now tip your hat if you don't judge others.

Tip your hat if you want to be better.

Now tip your hat one more time, and then throw it away.

No more tipping your hat.

Now let's see the change it made.

Free the child

Running running running from what she can't escape, attempting to fly as if she had a cape.
The cage telling her who she can and can't be.
The cage watching her when she doesn't want to be seen.
The time to be unseen and free is nowhere to be.
Full of lies, deceit, and guilt that brings her to her knees.
Feeling cramped and crushed in this collapsing cage.
She tries to b r e a k out, running rebelliously with rage.
The cage continues to shrink into a claustrophobic state.
No air, no light, feeling suffocated with hate.
The child is afraid, exhausted and caged.
The life in her eyes fading, like an ocean being drained.
The walls start to shake, tremble, and quake.
Saying, "give up child, I've won your soul."
She tosses and turns, terrifyingly contorted.
Her thoughts, her will, her imagination d-i-s-t-o-r-t-e-d.
She tries to flee screaming, "Just let me be!"
"I'm scared, I'm tired, my brain is on fire."
The cage is merciless malicious and cold.
Never will The cage free her, until she is 18 years old.
Struggling, stumbling, sinking into despair.
No hope, no escape, just the cold air.
She's empty and drained, unwanted and blamed.
She just wanted to be loved, cared for and accepted.
The cage left her defeated, depressed, and d i s c o n n e c t e d
  

Intro to my blog

Straight outta the toilet paper. Again.. S/O to Nelson. Like a sinister slithering snake, you may see me slide my slimy body through the deep dark dead of night. I only reveal my true self to those that don't need a flashlight to find me. However, if you press the button precisely an inch from your thumb on that purple flashlight, you'll see me just as clearly cause the lights were already on. 

My heart bleeds like an open sore on that weirdos forehead that sits next to you in AP Calc. Saying look at me, but don't judge me cause I'm not that weirdo in AP Calc. I'm not smart enough; But my heart beats hard enough. My arms like limp noodles, seem strong enough. And my favorite super villain is dope enough to destroy your super hero with his swagger alone. 

You may have guessed Dead Pool, but sorry Dead Pool fans; It's The Joker, played by the amazing Heath Ledger of course. I always route for the bad guy. Not because I'm evil, or like terrible things to happen to people. The reason being is the determination a super villain must have, and the up-bringing they all go though. Not only do their lives inspire to overcome any of life's challenges. 

It also challenges you to become something more than society would've thought possible. Be what people say you can't be just to prove them wrong. Be something more. Lastly, just as one of my favorite rap groups once said in song, and I quote from the title: "Express Yourself", by N.W.A. And just remember to be YOU.