Inhalt

The Sad Life Of a Tree

All the trees and leaves were sad. For weeks now the leaves have been having slow deaths. Thousands and thousands of leaves per tree. The devastation…They had changed from their bright life green color to different color shades. From violet to yellow, to orange, to maroon, to just about any color you could imagine. Then they would go hard and start to crumble. Finally, with no more strength left, they danced to the ground as a final goodbye. Of course, new ones would grow back in the Spring, but it was not the same. And soon the trees would grow fond of the new leaves, only to lose them, too.
So the poor tree’s suffered the same loss, year after year, not bearing to tell the poor leaves what fate awaited them. Sometimes the trees would shake their branches to help the poor little leaves let go. What’s worse is that sometimes an old leaf would still be on the ground even after the winter storms. Sometimes Humans would help by sweeping the old leaves away, but it was still a hard thing to watch.
But the trees did not die. They just fell asleep until next spring, to start the horrible cycle all over again. Some say that death would have been better, better than having to be part of this cycle over and over, year after year, for years. Then until the tree would have the blessing of ending its life in three ways.
There were the Humans…they could chop down a tree and end its life. Or, there was the pain of growing up to old age. Taller than all the trees, wisest of the trees, the most pained of the trees. Then lastly, fire. The fire was said to be the savior. It wiped out hundreds, even thousands of trees, to end the cycle.

Scratch poem

A dark place
you once promised me an eternity
you once promised me infinity
tear-stained; blood stained
a dying rose on the table, a silver heart
not but a tear
not but a gift
A dark place

Galaxy Haiku

Glorious, rising

testimony of the suns
planets and their moons

No Skills

What skills did she have? None. Interests? A few. Was she good at them? Not really. People with skills and talents surrounded her. But she, the talentless freak, stood far off in the corner. Every person she knew or was related to could do something. She couldn't kick a ball. She sounded like a dying bird when she sang. She failed any educational........anything. She could not run. She could not even clean a dish correctly. Animals hated her. She could not swim. She burned or overcooked food. She sucked at makeup. And don't even ask her to paint a nail. Children ignored her. She fell when she danced. And don't ask her to take care of you. She could sort of grow a plant. How was that useful? She kind of drew okay. What was her talent? Her skill? That thing that made her herself? NOTHING! She had no skill. No talent. No Extra weird cool thing about her.

The Girl, the Snow, and the Pain.

Snow fell all around her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The trees were her shelter, her friends. But in this place, her troubles did not leave. She shivered, yet it did not bother her. She knew she should go back, but she did not want to, the very idea of going back...…

Snow fell harder still, yet she did not move. She stared into the trees. They were the only thing she could trust. People were small-minded. Or, maybe she was the small-minded one, and everyone else's minds were too large and complicated for her, and that is why she did not understand them, and they did not understand her. Yes, trees were the better friend...…..

She had been there so long her shoulders were white with snow. She looked up. How nice it would be if she could stay here. Not to go back to the world she hated so. People. Why did they do this to her? One nice thing and they use it against her. One, tiny glimmer of hope, and they find a way to make it stop shining. Because this is what they do. People take things, and they use them against you...…

Her lips were blue. Her hands were numb. Yet she sat. She loathed, She hated, She cried, feelings she was not allowed to have. If she felt them, they said they were not real. These feelings she has, she must keep bottled up because if she did not, they would be angry...

Her feet were deep in snow. She could not stop her body from shaking. Tears ran down her face. The sun was setting. Temperature dropping. They should have come by now. If they knew her. But everyone lies. People lie. She lies. She must leave soon. She could not stay here. No matter what she felt, no matter what the problem, she had to go back. Those people needed her. She needed them...…

The moon was out. All of her feeling was gone. At least, physically. In the distance, people started to call out her name. She looked up. As she had predicted, they have come. They have come for her...

The voices came closer still, calling out for her. Should she call back? Should she let them find her? Or should she sit in silence, and let the snow finish her off...

The snow got even colder. The voices, closer. All this hate she had, was not just going to go away. This pain? It was real, because of them. Yet she loved them. They loved her. But this hate...

She could not stand it. Her numb, cold, blue body stood up. Her voice cracked as she called back. So much said in these three words. Her pain, her hate, her sadness, her fear, her stress, her joy, and her need to be heard.

"I am here."

In The Woods

She stood there at the very edge of the woods. Her heart was in flames. Everyone she ever loved, everyone she ever knew and trusted had lost her now. She was gone. She was not the same person she was when she was 7. When she was 10. She was grown up. But thanks to them, she was changed. In a way she never wanted.
She walked forward. She did not care how long she walked. She didn’t care where she was going. She just walked. When people look back, did they not see what was wrong with her? Were they really that blind? So many people had hurt her, and she had kept quiet for so long. She couldn’t keep these secrets. Her childhood was broken. Her life was now altered because of the choices other people had made for her.
She was sure they had tried their best. But honestly, they could not have done better? Helped her when she needed help? All her friends. As if they could be friends. Hurtful words they said daily, ignorant, selfish people. They only cared about how hot they looked. They insulted each other, telling one another hurtful things, telling them they should change their whole bodies just for something as stupid as popularity. Or Boys. Or other girls.
She was walking deeper and deeper into the forest. As she did her breath slowed, the fuel powering the flames in her heart was slowly running out. All these scars were her fault too. Was it not her who listened to all of these people? Who didn’t speak up when they said the things that hurt her? Was it not her who kept these feelings inside, not telling her family and friends she needed help? It was. Her sadness. Her depression. Her anger. These were not her fault. But not telling anyone was.
She stopped. This was never going to change. Any of it. People will be people. People are toxic. People are mean. People are wrong. People are self-absorbed. That's true. But if she kept these feelings to herself, nothing was going to change. She would live like this forever, letting all these feelings eat away at her heart. It would slowly kill her bit by bit until there would be nothing to save. Nothing to salvage.
But she could do something now. Maybe if she told someone. Stood up. Let people know all the pain she was in. Maybe she could be saved. She looked around.
She was lost. Miles from civilization. It was dark. She was cold. Maybe she couldn’t be saved.

When You Don't Listen

When you don't listen, it makes my heart light up in anger,
When you don't listen it makes me feel hopeless.
When you don't listen it makes me want to hurt you,
and I hate it.

Why must you not listen to me?
Why must you be so hateful?
Why must you be the very reason I hate waking up in the morning?

You cloud my brain in rage
You make me a monster
You make me blackout
You make me hate you
You make me stop loving you

You yell
I Yell
You yell because I yell
Kids cry
I cry

Just because you don't listen

The Bite of a Snake

Abite
of
a
snake

can change
a
persons
mind

It can make them
angry
aggressive
evil

The bite
of
a
snake

can
kill
a
person
instantly
if their heart is bad

But if their
heart is
pure
the venom
will
not
let
them keep
it

But since very few people
have
pure
hearts
that is not
much of a problem

The Bite
of
a
Snake

Now I am lost

She couldn't believe he was gone. He had lied to her. HE HAD LIED.
She screamed. She screamed so loud the neighbors were knocking on the door.
She threw over her bookshelf. She smashed her fish tank, her fish laying helplessly on the floor.
She smashed her T.V. with a fire poker.

It was his fault. He promised her. HE WAS A LEIR. He promised her forever.

He was the one who held her hand. When it was so dark. When it was so dark she could not see, IT WAS HIS HAND. HE was the one she needed most. THE ONE WHO STOOD BY HER. The one who took every broken memory and made it bearable! IT WAS HIM. IT WAS HIM!

She tore the pages from every book. She lit fire to their photo. She stabbed and smashed every piece of something she had left of him with a knife. The neighbors were yelling now.

Every memory of his was as broken as glass. Glass that was stabbing her heart.

Ashes to ashes, blood with blood, flame with flame, a flame fueled with her pain.

She fell into the glass. It stabbed her skin. Yet there was no pain. Her blood leaking to the floor.

Why did he have to die?

Live Life Now

These days, people are caught up in the drama of everything happening around us. Covid. Potential war. Small paychecks. Empty shelves at grocery stores. It’s very depressing. And it seems like people only want to see the bad in it. I mean, I get it. It’s PRETTY bad. But remember there is always something to look forward to. Whether it is the next time you hang out with your friends, to your 8:00 a.m. Jason Derulo solo in the shower…
Now people are locked in their houses scared to death of life. I mean life is scary, but you can’t stay in the house and not answer your door if you don’t have a hazmat suit on. Life goes on. What’s the point of living life if you don’t LIVE IT. And no, staying in your room with a bag of Cheetos watching TIKTOK at 3:00 a.m. IS NOT living your life, sorry. Living is experiencing. Not everything is on the screen.
And if you are still scared of people, whether it be covid or you think they might be murders, there are things you can do without contacting people. When was the last time you went to the wilderness? You know…the place where we came from? When you had to hunt and not use doordash for ice cream? When you had to work hard? Nature is good for us. Fresh air, beautiful plants, animals, and water. And no a bear will not eat you while you sleep. Bears hate noise and people and even if that RARE occurrence does happen, you can make a loud noise and scare it off. So you can DROP that excuse. I am looking at you, Maria.
Or you can do something dumb or fun to have a laugh, that good laugh people have not had in two years. You can go out to a party, or throw one yourself! Just make sure no one jumps out the window thinking they are living their best lives. Sometimes having fun IS fun. Don’t forget that. Lots of people have. Some went out of their way during covid giving themselves brain damage just to make sure we didn’t lose sight of the fun. Mad respect.
So basically what I am saying is, Live life now, because bro, it won’t get easier. Life is not easy. The best thing you can do is put your head high with a smile and a joke in your pocket. For example, rude people in covid joke,
Me: Would you like to be the sun in my life?

Her: Awww... Yes!!!

Me: Good then stay 92.96 million miles away from me

In love with a girl

Her eyes were blue like the pond of my childhood home.
Her chest smells of roses.
Her golden sun hair was the color of my curtains.
Her freckles spread across her cheeks and nose were the perfect touch.
A very small blemish on her chin, just made her more beautiful.

Her laugh was like a bell,
And her smile would make any journey worthwhile.
Her humor was unbeatable
And when she looked at ME
It felt like my whole life was different
just for the small window of time that she looked at me.

Could she love me the same way I love her? Could she love a gangly girl from a small town?
Could she love her best friend back?

That season in 'tween

I love that time of year. You know, when the hot days start to slowly cool, and the winds are not hot and humid anymore, but cool and refreshing? When the sun is covered in a small blanket of clouds, yet no snow or rain falls. When you go out in the morning with no shoes on and your feet touch the cold ground, and it wakes you up. When you breathe in so deep you can smell fall and winter coming, and the cool air fills your lungs. When you're all alone having a nice run in the morning, and the sun is shining and yet it's not hot, nor cold.

It's that time of year. When it's not entirely fall, yet it's not summer anymore. It gives me a special feeling. A season's feeling. That's my season. It's that season that's in 'tween.

In The Hour

Freedom is what this feeling was. She was so happy. She never felt this way. But when she was alone, especially right here, she could be happy. She had one hour. One hour of freedom. Peace.Happiness.

So......she ran.

The stars in the sky and the moon were her only light. But that was all she needed. She sped up. The little road was deserted; everyone was sleeping. She grinned from ear to ear. That was just fine, in fact, it was perfect.

No one to disturb her peace, No one to worry her, to make her fear, to make her angry. Just her. Bliss. She ran faster still, her breath speeding up with each long stride. It was just her and her mind. She could talk with herself, what did she need people for? To tell her things she didn't want to hear? Make her do things she didn't want to do?

No. Her chains were broken for this one hour. And even better, they did not know. Her legs ached and her mouth started to dry. That just made her push herself more. She could think about whatever she wanted to think about.

She could tell stories to herself without them being interrupted or sidetracked. Her imagination was always her best friend.

For this one hour......

Her chest tightened and she was shaking.

Finally, giving in, she stopped running. But it wasn't because her body detested it. Not because someone had found her. Not because she was unhappy or because she ran out of things to think about. Not even because her time was out.

She stared.

This, was the end of the road.

Une beauté

passed them in the hall. Those sparkly blue eyes. Those deep..........blue.........sparkly..........so-beautiful-you-could-drown-in-eyes.

A brush......of the fingers. A tingle down my spine. A single shivering breath escaped my lips...the warmth of the fingers...

Their curly hair was shiny and beautiful, and my heart fluttered. Everything is in slow motion... their hair bouncing and flowing beautifully.

A small smile escapes their lips... a small sparkly smile. I fluttered my eyes...

Oh, how I wish they were mine. To feel their skin against mine, to feel every beat of their heart. Every glance and every chuckle, every step, and every touch. It is agony, just because they are not mine.

I remember once I was talking to them. Oh, it was so hard to pay attention. All I could do was stare at their beauty. Their luscious lips...

But then, when I thought it was all over I was sad. Sad to see it end. But I smiled. I nodded. Longing for them............

But then something that I never expected...............

They leaned in close..... and whispered....

"Tu es belle, une jeune rose dans un champ de mauvaises herbes, aucune beauté ne peut se comparer à la tienne, mon amour. Soyez à moi."

What...........? I looked into those deep blue eyes quizzically. They smiled. And walked away. She was so beautiful.

I wish she was mine.

Sunflowers

The poisonous plant that's really through,
Above all others is the snowberry.
Does the snowberry make you shiver?
does it?

Pay attention to the spicy scilla,
the spicy scilla is the most lovely liliaceous plant of all.
Spicy scilla.
Are you upset by how adorable it is?
Does it tear you apart to see the spicy scilla so endearing?

zany, fairest flowers sings like a green girl
Now sappy is just the thing,
To get me wondering if fairest flowers are wacky.

I saw the the yellow seasoning of my generation destroyed,
How I mourned the nasturtium.
Down, down, down into the darkness of the nasturtium,
Gently it goes - the lily-livered, the unhealthy, the sensationalistic.

One afternoon I said to myself,
"Why aren't hued hollyhocks more colorless?"
Never forget the aureate and crimson hued hollyhocks.

The Gracious And Joyful Lake

Whose lake is that? I think I know.
Its owner is quite angry though.
She was cross like a dark potato.
I watch her pace. I cry hello.
She gives her lake a shake,
And screams I've made a bad mistake.
The only other sound's the break,
Of distant waves and birds awake.
The lake is gracious, joyful and deep,
But she has promises to keep,
Tormented with nightmares she never sleeps.
Revenge is a promise a girl should keep.
She rises from her cursed bed,
With thoughts of violence in her head,
A flash of rage and she sees red.
Without a pause, I turned and fled.

Exchange - A Didactic Cinquain

Exchange
Marvelous, marvelous
Switching, talking, switching
Symobolising all things affinal
Interchange

Writing

A writer, however hard it tries,
Will always be imaginative.
Are you upset by how ingenious it is?
Does it tear you apart to see the writer so creative?

I cannot help but stop and look at the meticulous crafting.
Are you upset by how punctilious it is?
Does it tear you apart to see the crafting so precise?

The literary genre that's really big,
Above all others is poetry.
Never forget the broad and mammoth poetry.

My Queer Rose

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Your kitten is lovely,
And so are you.

Orchids are white,
Ghost ones are rare,
Your wig is blonde,
And so is your hair.

Magnolia grows,
With buds like eggs,
Muscles are smooth,
And so are your legs.

Sunflowers reach,
Up to the skies,
Algae are green,
And so are your eyes.

Foxgloves in hedges,
Surround the farms,
Your way is safe,
And so are your arms.

Daisies are pretty,
Daffies have style,
Your air is warm,
And so is your smile.

A rose is beautiful,
Just like you.

A dark haiku

Children laugh in light
Kindred souls now look for more
King rules voiceless now

In My Corner Of The Darkness

In my small corner of the darkness, I have so many worries and doubts, but in my corner, I can think about them secretly. I have ever so many thoughts in my head. Fears that seem so real...that are real...

Fears of what other people think....

Fears of where my life is going...

Fears of everything...

Fears of everything in my life. My life is scary, and I can't doubt that. And with those thoughts, my tiny corner grew darker. But the darkness was not one of my fears.

My fears will be the death of me.

A Letter To My Mother

I hate you. I hate you so much. All I wanted was your love. You left me for a pill? How dare you? You think of no one but yourself you selfish bitch. All I wanted was to be like other people. To grow up and live a life, a life that you had a part in, a life that dad had a part in. I wanted to go to school and say I had a mom that loved me and cared for me and was there for me. I wanted friends and a brain that functioned normally.

YOU DON'T GIVE A DAMN ABOUT NO ONE BUT YOURSELF. Ready to get into bed with the next man who will take your cyclops' ass.

You're ugly. Inside and out. You destroyed yourself with drugs. You burnt me. Scarred me. You make me cry. You don't even know when my birthday is. I wasn't born on October 16th you dumbass bitch, I was born on October 11th.

One day when you're dying, and I get the news I won't cry for you. I cried a long time ago. I lost you a long time ago. I don't love you. But I do. All I wanted was your love. When you die, I will dance and sing. I will cry and slam my fists on the ground. I hate you. I love you. I wish you were worthy of the air you breath.

Your a bitch. I hope you die.

I just wanted you to tell me you love me.

A Game Of Sarah Sarita

My 16th birthday was my best birthday yet. I had three great friends to hang out with, fun party games, a movie trip, and a great slumber party. I think the best part of it all was the slumber party.
I sat there in the living room, coloring my sugar skull picture. I was coloring it purple, violet, and baby blue. All of my friends were sitting around the floor with me, coloring their own unique pictures.
I had three friends. First, there was Sissy. She was 15 years old and had lots of friends and a HUGE social life. It is kind of intimidating.
Then there were the two sisters Arline and Delaine.
Arline is 11 years old and really funny. She has a super hyper personality and can be anti-social.
Delaine is 13 and is really close to me. She is trying to figure out her life and is just as funny as her sister.
I am always so nervous around my friends because I worry about what they think of me. We were coloring for about 15 to 20 minutes when my mom came out and said:
“It’s time to go to bed. One movie and then the Tv is off and you all go to sleep.”
Me and my friends looked at each other. I looked at my mom and said okay. Of course like any slumber party, we were not going to go to sleep!
I picked up our papers and we all decided on The Nightmare Before Christmas. I put it on, gave my mom the remote, and closed her door. We were home free.
Soon we were giggling, talking about boys, dumb girls, and things that happened to us lately.
When I looked at the clock, it was 3:00 a.m. I put a devilish grin on my face. The witching hour. Time to have some fun! I looked at Delaine and said:
“Google scary games to play at 3:00 a.m.”
Lanie looked at me.
“Bet.” She said. She smiled.
I laid down next to her on the blankets and watched her scroll through websites.
“We can’t play that…we don’t have enough stuff…oh heck no that's too scary…” I heard her mumble. She then stopped at a game called Sarah Sarita. We started to read it and I thought it was a great idea.
“Let's do it, all we need is two coins,” I said. Sissy looked up from her phone.
“Do what?” She asked. I giggled.
“It’s called Sarah Sarita. It’s a game with two coins. All you do is say, Sarah Sarita, can we join your game? And then we throw the coins over our shoulders and see what it says, if we get two heads it’s a yes, if we get two tails it’s a no, and if we get a heads and a tails, that means maybe. We just ask them questions and throw the coins over our shoulders. We just have to make sure they say yes when we ask them if we can leave the game.” I explained. Sissy raised an eyebrow.
“Them?” She asked. I nodded.
“Yes. Apparently, they were twins from Mexico. One was Sarah and the other was Sarita. They were at school for cheerleading when it got canceled, so they were heading home when Sarah said she needed to use the bathroom. When Sarah didn’t come back, Sarita went to investigate and saw her sister's body on the ground with the school's janitor over it. That's when Sarita was murdered too.” I said.
Sissy shook her head. I looked at her and grinned.
“Wanna play?” I asked. She started laughing hysterically. What the heck?
“Nope. I ain’t getting nothing attached to me.” She said and went back on her phone. Lanie looked at her sister, Arline.
“What about you?” She asked.
“Nope! But I want to watch this.” Arline said. Then Arline looked at me. “If something does happen, I hope they go for you first, sorry, but I love my sister.”
I gasped, pretending to be offended, and then started laughing. Now is the time for the game. Me and Lanie spoke at the same time.
“Sarah Sarita, may we join your game?” We said in unison. We threw the coins over our shoulders. Lanie found hers.
“I got heads!” She whispered. I started giggling because I couldn’t find mine. When I found it, I anounced,
“Heads! We can join their game.” I said. Soon we were giggling and asking the coins silly questions, like if they were juicy, or virgins. When we ran out of questions, we turned to Sissy and Arline. Sissy ignored us, determined to stay out of the game no matter what.
“Ask them if I am going to die soon.” Arline joked. I got a devilish grin.
“Bet,” I said. Laine looked at me and smiled too, and then we said in unison,
“Will Arline die soon?” Then we watched the coins fall. Heads. We both got heads. Arline started laughing her head off.
“No! I am so young!” She laughed. Lanie, on the other hand, decided it was time to stop. I agreed.
“Sarah Sarita, it’s time to say goodbye,” we said. Tails. We nervously looked at each other and Sissy just shook her head.
We said it once more. Tails.
“That’s it, I quit.” I said. I dropped my coin. Sissy shook her head again and Lanie gasped.
“You have to close the door!” Lanie said.
“I am done with this.” I said. Lanie shook her head.
“Sarah Sarita, can I leave the game now?” Lanie asked. She threw her coin. Heads.
“Great! I am fine. Your doomed, Amber.” Lanie said. I rolled my eyes. What did she know? I yawned. It was 4:00 a.m.
“Let's get some sleep before my mom wakes up and discovers us,” I said. I laid down and closed my eyes. Everyone whispered goodnight, and that was the end of it.
I woke up in the morning and made everyone breakfast and everything was going great. Then it wasn't.
“Hey has anyone seen my bottle?” Sissy asked.
“No, but has anyone seen my necklaces?” Lanie said.
“No…” I said. Sissy needed to find her bottle it had her medicine in it. Without it, things would not end well.
“OMG! This must be the work of S.S.” Arline said. We all looked at her.
“S.S?” Sissy asked.
“Sarah Sarita,” Arline said. I looked at Lanie nervously.
“But why should they be after me? I didn’t participate! If they should be after anyone, it’s Amber!” Sissy burst out. I looked down. Geeze. My bad.
After 15 minutes of searching, we found the bottle. It was inside the bag of clothes she had brought. But we had checked there. We literally had dumped everything out.
The first thing found, next we need Lanie’s necklaces. We were stumped. Couldn’t find them anywhere. Suddenly, Lanie shouted.
“I found them, help me move this T.V. stand.” She said. T.V. stand?
Once she retrieved them, we sat down and looked at each other. How had they gotten back there?
The rest of the day went by great, and soon it was time to go home.
But we were all still skeptical. What if?

The Cat of Night

The cat of the night will hiss
or so you say

The cat of the night is curious
mysterious
and all knowing
or so I say

The cat of the night is evil
'tis the spawn of the darkness
born under a moonless night
or so you say

'twas born under a moon of full
with eyes elcetric blue
the offspring of a curious mother
or so I say

The cat is evil
Or so you say

But I say it's a curious thing,
that cat,
And I think that I would gladly
say the cat is more than what it seems

Or so I say

The Flower Of Writing

The art of writing. Of course, it's a thing. Writing can be art. It IS art. Writing can take you halfway across the world, to the farthest star, and out of the Milky Way.

Being a writer is like being a flower. You start as such a small seed. Your first step. Your first story, or haiku or poem, or whatever your writing. Then you realize, HEY! I like this. In fact, I love this. I wanna do this again.

That is when the roots take hold. They spread throughout your brain, like an infection. A great infection you never wanna treat. The roots take over, they are in every nook and cranny.

Then you start to grow. Poking yourself out of the ground. Showing your work to others, friends, family, and teachers, maybe even posting online.

Soon you have left and are so tall. You have tiny buds all over and you just have one thing left to do. Time to make your mark. Time to bloom.

Share your work with the world. Then every bud you have slowly opens as you grow, share, write, and enjoy doing something that can make yourself and others just SO HAPPY.

No one likes you

I don't know if anyone has told you, but literally, no one likes you.

They hate the way you talk.
They hate the way you walk.
They hate the way you laugh.
They hate the way you cry.
They hate the way you are silent.
They hate the way you chatter.
They hate the way you dress.
They hate the way you dance.
They hate the way you sing.

I cry as I say all of this to myself in the mirror.

Why sir should I wear wet socks to bed?

Why sir should I wear wet socks to bed?
Oh how cold my toes would be!
I would have to rap all my blankets around my pour little toes, as they turn radish red.

Why sir should I wear wet socks to bed?
I would wake up with wrinkly feet!
I am just fine sir, wear dry socks, why, I DO have a head.

Why sir should I wear wet socks to bed?
What would that even help?
I swear I am fine, I would rather be dead.

Why sir should I wear wet socks to bed?
I haven't the faintest clue,
Why don't you go ask Ted?

Why sir, should I wear socks to bed?
I just can't comprehend,
What runs through your head,
to want my toes radish red,
to make me be rather dead,
because you have no head.

When You Wake Up

Run. Run faster than you have ever run before. Let the wind take you. People say once you reach your limits, that's the end. I say, Reach your limits, then go farther. Push yourself to be the best you can. Don't stop, every obstacle is just something for you to learn from, something for you to challenge yourself with. You are more than what they say. You are more than you think. Who is stopping you? Why are they stopping you? They are nothing. What is stopping you from reaching the stars? What excuse is making you think twice? You have the power. When you look in the mirror each morning you should be proud. Proud to say you are a woman. Proud to say you are who you are. Happy about that little blemish on your face. Happy you have curly hair and dark skin. Proud to say you know who you are. Proud to say you have green eyes, brown eyes, white skin, brown skin, mixed skin, and a big heart. At the end of each day, you can say you made it, and tomorrow is a new day, a new day where anything and I mean anything is possible.

You are you. You are going to do something great. Don't you forget that? You are loved. You are needed.

The true meaning of the Holidays

Holidays
H Having uncomfortable conversations with people you have to call family.
o Overbearing duties, chores, and gifts you feel obligated to buy for every person you have ever said hello to.
l Living with uncle bob and his farts for the next three weeks
i interesting questions about my personal life I have no intention of answering.
d Digging my early grave of embarrassment.
a Actually wished I had locked myself in the bathroom until everyone left...
y Yacking up my potatoes while Aunt Daisy talks about her hernia at dinner.
s Saying yes with a plastic smile on my face to everything.

Hello Future Me!!!

Dear Future....um well me,

Er- hello me! Tis your 16-year-old self! Yeah, I imagine your face....yeah...those years........
ANYWAY! I have a lotttt of questions about my life. I mean, first of all, did I ever figure out my sexuality man? That's a big one. Honestly please tell me.

Am I married? Do they love every crazy, weird, and insane thing about me? Us? er-
I mean, maybe I am not insane when I am 25, but like, I find that very hard to believe, just cuz, you know, it's us. Honestly, past trauma is a thing, and will still be a thing in 9 years.

Did we ever get in touch with the birth monster? (You know, the woman who gave birth to us, but that was literally the only thing she ever did in our life for us.) Please punch her for me, and call her a skank.

Next, I think we should discuss our height situation..........I need to get taller, NOT FATTER PLEASE!

We BETTER have at least THREE books published and a small apartment, or your a disappointment, no pressure! :D

Don't forget to strut your stuff and sparkle and shine girl!!!!

My Vision Of The Stars

Br eak Free, from those bonds that keep you tied to the ground.
Break free from those harsh words, hateful thoughts, and the pain of the past.
Let the very thing that keeps you bound to this planet go.
Because you don't, you will never see the stars.
The planets.
The Stardust.
The galaxies and planets and stars, and the very earth itself is a wonder to behold.
One step without bonds and pain will give you the very taste of freedom.
It tastes like wonder, like joy, like the very thing that has been missing from your life.

So let the roots that hold your feet to the ground turn brittle and hollow, grab on to your star and zoom out of the atmosphere. To the stars. To your dreamland.

Connection

Connection

Light and connection
A true reflection

A dream of affection
no one clear direction
We have an Interconnection
I have no objection

to our affection

Mon véritable amour/ My True Love

J'aimerais que vous puissiez voir tout ce que vous êtes dans mes yeux. Vous êtes belle, rare et extraordinaire. Votre voix est comme une cloche et vos yeux sont d’un bleu profond. Vos cheveux sont doux, foncés et brillants. Tu es gracieux comme un cygne, ta beauté de colombe. Votre nom ne ressemble à aucun autre, et votre voix pourrait briser les visages les plus merveilleux. Je te connais quelque part, que tu sois un homme ou une femme ou de toute autre sorte, tu m’aimeras et tu seras à moi.

I wish that you could see all that you are in my eyes. You are beautiful, rare, and extraordinary. Your voice is like a bell, and your eyes are the deepest blue. Your hair is soft, dark, and shiny. You're graceful like a swan, your beauty of a dove. Your name unlike any, and your voice could shatter the most wondrous of faces. I know your out there somewhere, whether you a male or a female or of any other kind, you will love me and be mine.

A BitterSweet fiery end

"Yes,I would die for you all., I whispered as I stood in front of my family.

The flames grew closer as I accepted my fate. Everything seemed to go in slow motion. People say that when they come face to face with the angel of death every moment in their life flashes before their eyes. They are wrong. I don't need to see my life before my eyes because my life is standing behind me. All of my love was behind me, watching in horror as I gave myself away to death so they could escape. The flames crawled toward me, and tears fell. They were not tears of sadness, they were tears of joy. My family would be safe, and, I would die happy knowing so.

This bittersweet ending burned my tongue and made it taste of iron. I held on to this taste as the dark angel spread its wings, and the flames consumed me.

Trolling

Don't you love how you can insult people online, they respect, and then they are cool? For example:

Me: Sidewalk licker

them: Aw, thanks!

Me: No problem, glad you owned up to it!

Them: Yeah, it was hard, but I finally did it.

Me: Wait- IRL?

Them: No Dumbass.

Me: Dipstick.

Them: Ur cool lets be friends

Me: Mmk.

When you have ADHD

Me 1: FUCK I forgot about that test.

Me 2: I can just zoom through

Me 3 (Logical one) : Ugh no the fuck I can't, we have an F.

Me 1: Ugh my arm itches again.

Me 2: Oooo A SHOE

Me 1: I have no idea what you are saying, nor do I care.

Me 2: MOM I DID!

Me 3 (Logical one): No I didn't........why you be lying like that.

Me 2: I can't sleep, want to go watch youtube

Me 1: FUCK YEAHHH

Me 3 (Logical one): I can't fucking stand myself sometimes.

The Lost Sister, the tale of a missing girl coming home for christmas

I was sitting at the table with my mother and father. I was helping them wrap presents for the family holiday party in a few hours. We were all silent. Though this time of year was cheery for most people, it was not for us. Ten years ago today my 6-year-old sister went missing. If she was still alive, which was very unlikely, she would be 16 years old. Though I was only 4 at the time she went missing, I still remember her vividly. Her big smile. Her bright electric green eyes. Her golden hair always smelled of strawberries. I remember how we would run around the garden for hours pretending we were wallabies and jackrabbits. These memories hardened my heart. I was 4. I should not remember her. What was the point of crying? We would never see her again.

I looked over at my mother. Tears were flowing. I had tears in my eyes too, yet I held them, I did not want them to fall. No use in crying. That would not bring her back. I looked back at the present I was rapping. It was a doll for my 4-year-old cousin, Pasley. She never met my sister. Suddenly my father spoke, pulling me back to the table.

"Gabi, there is no point in crying over Emberlin. She would not want us to cry. It is almost time to go, why don't you go clean yourselves up and I will put the presents in the car." He said. My father still hoped she would come home. He was ignorant. His ignorants made me angry. Emberlin would never come home. She was 6. There is no way. They thought she had been taken. She was snatched right from under our noses at the mall. One minute there, the next, gone. During the most cheerful, happy, joyous time of year.

I slowly walked up the stairs. Looking at the photos of us when we were young. One big happy family. We didn't know that it all would end in just months after these photos were taken.

"Mckayla, get the presents out of the back, will you?" My mother asked. Her face was caked in makeup, trying to hide her red eyes.

"Yes, mother," I said quietly. I was a quiet person. I didn't like people to pay so much mind to me. I already had parents that did that; I was not left alone. I was their little girl. All they had left. I looked at the Christmas lights of the surrounding houses and envied those families. Families that could enjoy the holidays. They had their children. Their sisters. Their daughters.

I carried the mountain load of presents up the snow-covered stairs of my Uncle Joshes porch. The smell of food floated through the screen door, and it made my stomach rumble. I just wanted to eat, open presents, and go home. So this awful night would be over....

"Mckayla!" My drunken Aunt called at me. She was always drunk on Christmas. Alcoholic Eggnog was her favorite. She stumbled over and hugged me, and I dropped all the presents. Uncle Josh growled.

"Beth, get off of her." He said. He walked over and helped me pick them up and put them under their tree. He hated when my aunt was drunk. I didn't mind too much, she was actually quite funny. She once insulted my father for talking too loudly, when he asked what was the matter with that, she replied "It makes your chin wobble when you talk loud." It made me choke on my peas.

I walked over and sat on the couch and stared out the window at the snow falling. Suddenly, Pasley came and hugged me, which startled me for a moment. I scooped her up and held her close.

The night was festive. We ate, (My Aunt drank) and we all laughed, ignoring the subject of Emberlin. Until...we had to open up presents. On every one of our family members tree was a photo of Emberlin. To honor her memory. I hated it. Forget her, forget the pain.

As usual, Pasley and I had lots of presents, and as we were the only children, we were spoiled. (Though I could hardly call myself a child, I was 14.)

We opened presents and thanked each other for what we got (And my Aunt drank more). I got an MP3 Player. SWEET! Then suddenly my dad's phone rang. He excused himself and went into the other room. I, meanwhile, was figuring out how to set up my MP3 player. We were all having fun, and we almost forgot about my father. When stumbled back into the room, I was almost worried. He was pale and panting hard.

"What's up Mikie?" Uncle Josh asked. It took a moment for my father to get the words out, but when he did they came out in a rush.

"THEY FOUND EMBERLIN!" He shouted hoarsely. I dropped my MP3 player, and it broke into three pieces. I didn't care.

"I-is she-" I whispered. "Found Her" could have meant a number of things. It didn't mean she was necessarily alive. My father looked me dead in the eyes and whispered

"Alive."

"Holy shit!" My Aunt shouted.

I sat in the chair at the police station twiddling my thumbs. My mother and father were in the other room. I was scared. What if it wasn't her? What if she didn't remember me? My mother walked out of the room with tears in her eyes with the biggest grin I have ever seen in my life. My mother was back. That sad shell that once was, was now full of a person that had been lost ten years ago.

"Come and see your sister, Mckayla." She whispered. My legs were shaking. The door seemed miles away. Walking there seemed to take hours. I hated it but loved it at the same time.

I looked into the room.

There she was. Emberlin. My big sister.

Tears fell from my eyes. She was crying too. I ran to hug my sister. I had missed her. More than anything. I had tried to push her out of my mind because I didn't want to feel the pain. But now all those feelings I had had were flooding in, and I let go. My sister was home.

Melanie Martinez, what her songs REALLY MEAN

When I ask most people if they know who Melanie Martinez is, I usually get one of two answers. Either they don’t know who she is or say her music is too dark for them. But you have to LISTEN, not hear.
Most of Melanie’s songs talk of problems most people can relate to, and issues that need to be addressed. She even has a movie, that shows issues that high schoolers face and sexist views that are still happening right now, even though we are about to start 2023.
Her songs may seem overbearing and at times disturbing, but in all actuality, they speak the truth. For example, Melanie Martinez has an album called CryBaby. In most of her songs, it sounds like a sad childhood. In the song Doll House, which is the song that actually made her skyrocket, she sings about a sad childhood, in which she hides, she even says so, “ Picture, Picture, smile for the picture, pose with your brother won’t you be a good sister, everyone thinks that we’re perfect, please don’t let them look through the curtains.”

Most people at that point say, “Why do I want to listen to that?” but to lots of teens and younger adults, these songs are relatable.
According to USA FACTS studies, 618,000 children were found to be victims of abuse and neglect in the US alone, and the numbers rise every year. But, listening to her songs does not necessarily mean you had an abusive or neglected childhood, so please don’t take that the wrong way.
In her movie, Melanie Martinez is a young High Schooler facing the problems most kids do in high school, plus the additional things most kids don’t like to mention. Such as insecurities about girls' bodies and even problems with teachers. Such as teachers who don’t listen, abusive teachers, and even sexual interactions.
But like I said, this stuff does not need to have happened to you for you to like her music.
So I guess what I am saying is that maybe, before you turn your head to the music, maybe you should listen to the words, not hear them.

Let me try to explain ADHD.....

So basically it’s like your crazy, or you feel like it anyway. And you forget EVERYTHING. For example;
Mom: Honey, take out the garbage!
Me: Okay, let me finish this writing test!
*Ten minutes later, on a bed reading a book, mom walks in.*
Mom: I told you to take out the trash.
Me: CRAP!
And it basically is like this every day. I can literally forget something someone told me two seconds ago and have to go back to ask. And it makes me super self-conscious because it makes people really irritated. Like, I AM SORRY! I literally start thinking about something else and then honestly I don’t care about whatever was said before.
And if it's not interesting, then I won't be there long. I am like a three-year-old at a movie for older kids. I don’t care about Jane Watson's dream guy! I want to know where I can get a pair of light-up sketchers like that, and suddenly OH NO my popcorn is gone and I don't even know what sketchers are anymore.
Then everyone is like, oh your so lazy! And I am like no, I just don’t like the tasks your giving me! Tell me to pet your dog and HELL YEAH I am in! But seriously, can vacuuming wait until AFTER I finish watching ReedFlower's youtube video?

And school is a whole problem on its own. Being socially awkward in high school never helps anyone. But with ADHD…. Yikes.
Like, I say the wrong thing at the wrong time all the time. Like, For once, when I was in 5th grade we had a sub and so we were all acting stupid because it was a ride of passage, and our teacher started talking about dogs for some reason.
Sub: My dog jumps on me a lot and he is just so big! I might have to get rid of him, I am getting too old for him.
At that point, everyone in class started shouting out solutions because you know, we are twelve, and to get rid of a dog is basically like killing 40 infants.
So, being my dumb self, jumped up on my desk and yelled:
“YOU NEED CEASER 911!” and then I blushed and fell into my seat from embarrassment because literally EVERYONE stopped talking and looked at me. EVEN THE TEACHER!

My bad…I was on a Ceaser kick….
Anyway, as I was saying, it doesn't really help my predicament. Teacher talking about boring maths? Nah… I would rather watch Jimmy pick his nose and be disgusted. I paid attention when I was interested, and I sware, I wouldn’t have made it to 10th if I hadn’t.
I wish it was easier though to explain. No, I am not a rude person, I just live in my head most of the time. I take Concerta to help, but there is only so far medication can take, and it honestly sucks to take it because people look at you like you are weird because you have to skip to the nurse's office to take pills.
And when you HEAR people whisper about it, it’s worse. It makes you have this deep anxiety and fear of what other people think, yet that dumb mouth just won't SHUT UP.
Then you just CAN’T sit still! Oh wow, my arm itches again, oh I want to touch that, ow a rock it in my shoe!

Someone GOD PLEASE HELP US!

I literally tip my hat to all people with ADHD, you are freaking awesome just to get through the day!

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 05.01.2023

Widmung:
To my group on tallo called Writers Of Tomorrow

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