1. it seemed I was a sculpture that everyone was trying to make better

    but the more they chipped away at me

    they decided that I could not be fixed

    and I was destined to stumble through life

    just short of who I was suppose to be

    imperfect to say the least

    constantly hearing “pay no attention to that man behind the curtain”

    but I wanted the answers

    why am I imperfect? not good enough?

    who am I anyway?

    I’m a puzzle who has lost my box

    no idea of the end picture

    not sure which pieces fit and which ones don’t even belong to me

    lost in a dark abyss

    wandering hopelessly

    until the day I realized how tired

    tired I was of being told I am not who I am suppose to be

    how could I be anybody else?

    who decided who I was suppose to be?

    and wasn’t that up to me?

    for the first time my greatest blessing was losing that box

    I am lost

    confused

    but who isn’t?

    the puzzle of who I am to become is not predetermined

    I get to choose

    what a novel concept

    and how did it take me so long to realize this?

    or am I figuring this out early in life?

    and does it even matter?

    be comfortable with the questions because nobody has the answers

    the most beautiful yet scary part of life is that we have the power

    maybe that’s what I have been afraid of

    I didn’t trust myself with that power

    time has shown that the mistakes and blunders

    the insecurities are part of all of us

    the dark abyss is now a tunnel with a small light at the end

    some day I will figure out which pieces of the puzzle fit

    maybe not today, tomorrow, or even five years from now

    and maybe the puzzle will not be perfect

    suddenly it seems acceptable that I am not perfect

    what a relief

    I am not necessarily ready to let go of all the pieces yet

    I have not decided what fits, what doesn’t

    time will tell though

    and maybe a piece that fits today

    won’t fit in two years

    but I have the power to decide

    when to drop them and when to hold on

    what fits, what doesn’t

    what the end picture will be

    and that is something

    he can never take from me

  2. spring came

    flowers bloomed

    smell of rain encompassed me

    light breeze blew my hair

    I saw you and smiled

    summer heat blazed

    waves crashed on the shore

    sting of salt on my skin

    clouds are few and far between

    I saw you and smiled

    fall chill hit the air

    colors blazed throughout the trees

    leaves fell gently on the ground

    crunch beneath my feet

    I saw you and smiled

    winter came at last

    smell of snow

    white dusted the trees

    cold chill of being alive

    I saw you and smiled

    a year came and went

    since God called you home

    I’m glad he took away your pain

    but that doesn’t mean I don’t miss you

    today I looked into his beautiful blue eyes

    I saw you and smiled

    I see you on the sunny days

    on the rainy ones too

    I see you in the beauty that surrounds me

    I see you in his eyes and smile

    God may have called you home but

    tomorrow just like today and yesterday

    I am sure somewhere I will see you

    for I see you everywhere

    and I will smile

  3. A Twelve-Year-Old Marilyn Monroe

    beautiful as she strikes a pose

    she’s just like Marilyn Monroe

    yet no matter how white the dress

    innocent and pure she’ll never feel again

    she tries to scrub the permanent stains

    of the blood of shame from her hands

    she holds a pain inside

    much too great for her years

    with bruises and scars that never fade

    as new ones continually take their place

    but Marilyn Monroe is dead

    then again, so is she

    a breathing corpse that’s empty inside

    but he knows she’ll never say a thing

    she’ll just keep smiling

    she’s just like Marilyn Monroe

    except she’s only twelve years old

  4. the creak of my old door handle

    the creak of my old door handle

    the most terrifying sound of childhood

    it was the bright red warning sign, the smoke alarm

    the redrum of a Stephen King novel

    the lock clicks

    quiet before the storm

    until I am trapped in the nightmare

    of that innocent child

    her silent torment

    screams echo through the empty house

    the creak of my old door handle

    monster of the night

    was that the squeak of step 5 or step 12?

    was that the rattle of the banister?

    no maybe it’s just this old house

    but the creak of my old door handle

    brings the cloaked figure of death

    death of a child’s innocent soul

    you would think the destruction

    would shake the foundations of this house

    to destroy something so pure

    it should wake the world

    but it’s as quiet as the creak of my old door handle

    the most terrifying sound I have ever known

  5. what you see

    nothing…

    nothing more than a thing

    to be used as you wanted

    to then be discarded

    forgotten…obliterated

    you missed

    the pain of a breathing human

    the wounds that bled

    crimson red on your hands

    secret scars

    to match the hidden blood

    you are forever stained with

    what you see in me…nothing

    you may never see anything in me

    but when you look in the mirror

    do you see the monster that I see?

    that broke the spirit

    of an innocent child

    tore the hope

    from her world

    and destroyed all she was

  6. paper doll

    I’m like a paper doll

    as fragile and delicate

    as the paper I’m made from

    once upon a time

    I was safely tucked away

    between the pages of a simple world

    but you found me

    and told me I could trust you

    I’m like a paper doll

    I let you take my hand

    slowly pull me from my simple world

    I thought I was safe

    but once you had a hold of me

    you tore me forcefully apart

    so tonight I’m your paper doll

    dress me in what you wish I wore

    will it be shame or blame and guilt tonight?

    or will it be fear, terror, and panic?

    or will it be your warped perception of love?

    tonight I’m your paper doll

    to do with what you want

    drag me around

    ignoring the destruction you cause

    like you have said

    I’m not worth the paper I was drawn on

    yes tonight I’m your paper doll

    and tomorrow I will try to bandage the damage

    but don’t worry

    like I promised

    I won’t say a thing

    I’ll just keep smiling

    your perfect paper doll

  7. I carry your smile with me,

    it’s like my own shining star,

    it can brighten my day,

    and always melts my heart.

    I carry your smile with me,

    the most precious gift I know,

    I share it with many,

    it is not mine alone.

    I carry your smile with me,

    in remembrance and love,

    as do all that you have touched,

    who miss their angel up above.

  8. breathe again

    It’s like slowly drowning

    The harder I try to swim to the surface

    The more the pressure of the water weighs me down

    I try desperately to hold my breath

    Afraid that letting out even a little air

    Will completely deflate me

    And I will be forever lost to the deep oblivion

    Yet I am aware that if I don start

    To let go

    I will never break the surface

    To breathe again

  9. no longer a spiraling destruction

    but a steady pull downward

    as I try to claw my way toward

    a better tomorrow

    that may not even exist

    hope is a faint ray

    that steadily diminishes

    they claim lightness

    trumps darkness every time

    the problem is that

    light does not even seem to exist

    in my world

    just a lighter shade of dark

    that makes some days more

    bearable than others

  10. Are you going to "The Beatles: The Lost Concert" movie premier in a few weeks?
    Anonymous

    No I’m not a big Beatles fan.

About me

I'm just an average college kid, nothing special or extraordinary. My dream is to simply make a difference in a few lives and if I can do that, than I have done something worth while.
My poetry is all 100% real and written by me. It is all driven by my personal experiences. I speak out in poetry because it's the only place I can and I speak for those who have not been able to find their voice yet.

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