March 2013
1 post
2 tags
Mirror.
I see her in the mirror. She has my eyes.
My hair.
My clothes.
When I move, she moves.
We look alike in every way.
But that girl is not me.
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She is scarred. I am scarred too.
But we are not the same.
She is the one that everyone else sees. She is the face I give to the world.
We are nothing alike.
I want freedom. I want to move, to fly. I want to forget the world.
But she clings to it....
January 2013
1 post
4 tags
THEY
The Earth is waking up.
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Earthquakes, tsunamis, fires, tornadoes.
“It is the end!” they cry, on street corners and TV shows. “We are damned!”
They’re right, but not for the reason they think.
They thought the ice was melting because of a hole in the ozone layer.
Volcanoes are erupting, ash blankets entire cities. People are dying. Yellowstone is closed. Fear.
They thought they could use...
August 2012
2 posts
blueaugustsuns:
One day I will wear boys’ shorts, a tank top, and sneakers.
One day I will gallop on horseback.
One day I will cut my hair short.
One day I will make art that I am proud of.
One day I will make the first move and kiss a boy.
One day I will kiss a boy on the top of a mountain.
One day I will have bookshelves that reach the ceiling.
One day I will read all day as it rains,...
2 tags
I am the ocean
Give me a mountain
So we can wear each other down
Till our insides are bare
And there’s nothing left
To hide
June 2012
4 posts
1 tag
skinnyset started following you
Sup brah.
4 tags
The Something.
I am awakened by the sound of a scream.
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My mother’s scream. It is the middle of the night, and I was just changing playlists to find some music to fall asleep to. My mother’s scream is cut short, and my father cries out. He, too, is silenced. I hear the sound of my dog scrambling out from underneath my parents’ bed, followed by a yelp, then silence.
I am frozen. Over the soft, soothing...
2 tags
Wreck.
I sit on the old tree stump outside what was once my childhood home. Now, now it’s nothing.
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The flood waters washed away all that could be considered “home.” The wood, once a bright blue that I spent hours in the summer helping my father paint, is peeled and rotten. Nothing remains inside that could be of use to anyone. Perhaps an animal seeking a shithole for a home, maybe. Why live in...
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