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Does that make me Different?I wear make up. Does that make me fake?
I cry. Does that make me emo?
I have male friends. Does that make me slutty?
I smile a lot. Does that make me weird?
I laugh loud. Does that make me preppy?
I have anxiety. Does that make me a freak?
I have Bipolar Disorder. Does that make me abnormal?
I respect people. I change for me, and only me. I have a past, but I know I have a future.
Does that make me different?
Maybe.
But at least it makes me
Me.
FrostbiteNumbness
I can’t feel my toes and at first I think
It’s just my toes.
I can cover them up.
I can warm them.
 
It spreads, like fire,
Like ice.
I glance away for a second, it seems, and my feet are cold
Pat –pat
That’s funny, I didn’t feel that
Maybe I’ll cover them up too
I’ll warm them up.
 
I’ll take a nap
Maybe a short rest will make it all better, warm them
Up…
What’s that? How long has it been?
My legs… are you still mine..
Why has my breath left me, short?
Has everything but deserted me?
 
What about you, are you still here?
Are you still with me?
Hello?
And before I can say goodbye, I think my thoughts are leaving me too –
You'll Never Understand...You'll never understand...
But I'm glad you don't.
Because that would mean
You'd have to go through my pain.
And I'd never wish that
For you.
Dear fucked society,Dear fucked up society,
Why do you take our rights?
Our human rights?
To who we love?
To who we are.. To our image?
Tell me.


You force images down our throat;
Images of airbrushed, false looking
people. You want people to look
more skinny and cause anorexia,
More along the hidden line that
you dig under the ground like
a dead forgotten body yet always there


You show us that its not right to be gay,
lesbian, bi-sexual or transgendered..
And then wonder why the suicide rate is
so fucking high. You cause the nightmares
and terrors of our family not accepting us
our
Telling Childhood Goodnight.They were the fearless whispers through the starless night.
They were the pounding feet through the cobbled streets,
Screaming out for everything.
They were the fleeting memories of a time long gone by,
Blown away in the wind to a far away sky,
Where the air is cold and the stars never shine.
 
Memories leave their traces behind,
The scars on my legs from a day long gone by.
I was climbing a rock,
That would forever leave me with a flaw.
 
They were the youthful cries, screaming out.
They were the glowing eyes, on a fearless march,
Racing down the cobbled streets, blazing out for all to see.
The beacon of light that is now dying out,
I never wanted it to go away.
Everything is changing at a speed I can’t match,
I am drifting further every day.
 
It makes me want to cry that the best and worst days of my life,
Are being pushed away with every day that passes by.
I want to hold on
But each day I lose more ground.
Soon they will be gone without even a sound.
 
Th
Sleeping Beautyshe’s in love with a character who
never existed but in the labyrinth of her head:
a patchwork composition of beautiful, lengthy words
she’d heard in her catatonic state; coma living
day in and day out, reliant on the salvation
of a man made of foreign wishing
and imperfection and necessity – an ignorance
of the less than ideal perception of self she’d
come to fear, absention stained romantic to the point
where daydreams were a standard for survival

(real living is for the purposeful of heart,
he loves her in her sleep)
Silent and GoneAlong the blue streams of those who were simplistically glassed, I drag my wooden, empty coffin; it contains only my past.

For the many decades I've lengthened have expanded pain's time; across shallow mountains and beatings I prepare my final climb.

Through harsh mists and soft grasses the journey trembles on; days on end without my voices; alas, I realize they are gone.

Near all abandonment's shelter I rest without ease; my halved demon appears before me; she speaks hellishly in the breeze.

Forgiveness and hallucination she crisply burns in my eyes; I must awaken and continue, 'tis my time to remain wise.

To a judging stream near the g
I don't fight fair...Cut, bruised, scraped, forgotten. These things I have all been at least once in my life. But it
hasn't made me stronger, just more determined in my fight to live another day. 
I know the ways of my attackers, studied their movements, learned their tricks and gleamed 
their true motives. I have seen their weaknesses, their faults, theirs flaws and I have kept
them close to me, ready for use when the next time we meet.
They are cautious of me, they have weary from my adaptive ways, knowing that I can fall only
so many times. They are scared for I have the key to their defeat; not by sane ways, but by
the ways they fear to tread.
One look, one stare, one gesture and they will run in fear for the truth is upon them: "I won't 
live restrained anymore."
"I have seen your errors an played on them like strings on a violin. Moved you to place were I
make the rules. Put you on display for all to see what you have done, and what will be done."
 
You ha
The WaitingBones hang from trees
Hollow windchimes rattling
In the sullen breeze

Dark clouds make noonday dusk
Rusted buttons on threadbare coats
Sorrow drips like rain

(From the fingertips of this dead-rose day)

Hoofprints kill the grass
Where the dark horse steps
The rider unsmiling

The tired and ill amble about
Cattle awaiting the shoulder tap
To sleep, but not to dream

(To become whatever the second birth dictates)
the carbon footprint of an arsonistyour crystal promise
rings drip off your glacial
fingers into global

nothings. the geodesic
dome you used to live in
is a hell you keep

clean-shaven and concentric,
spiraling away from you,
wrapping your unborn

children up in paper goblets.
for minimum wage, any geryon
would cling to the terza rima

inkblots on your
collarbones, his spongy molars
diving into your right

angles, his familiar laughs
killing your skin with
shivering cuddles and you

shudder, being self-diagnosed
at center of the universe,
your hair a nest of radio

waves, the one cosmic
principle drumming on the ancient
heart of mystery.

but amateur porn always
made you cry
lifelinesI fear the sound of sparrows
and the density of leaves
against dew-muffled blades
of grass,

and I'm drowning
in the sky.

My skin has learned how
to peel itself off
without causing a commotion
in my marrows or
even show the slightest hint
of pain,
and my heart has learned how
to hush the stars in their wake
and keep it all a secret.

There's a sea in my mouth
and I can't swim.

There are lifelines
cast like these and it will
all end with the same tragedy.
of seafoam thronesFrom Atlas’ hands she wept to me,
atop Africas and South Atlantics;

this is one situation unaffected by
ember eyes and windy lashes
(it has no anatomy).

You are sparrows stranded
in tiny crevices and cliffside love,
though you rebuke flight
in the fear of chipping feathers.

   So what do you do?

You reach for my soul,
coveting flight with shaking
dainty arms…

and perhaps I’ll let you:
With flytrap lips and
glass shaped hips…
you are unfit for anything but
sight.

(But beauty isn’t everything)
Happily AloneHonesty,
She does not have,
Personalities,
She has many of them.

A million shields,
a million personalities,
She's always changing,
to fit every person around her.

If one were to ask why,
she would answer with,
I will never reveal my weaknesses,
because she's evil.

She hates everyone,
stupider than her is barely tolerable,
smarter than her is too scary,
She hates it all.

She leaves the world behind,
To one she has dreamt of,
No color,
nobody else.

Then,
she will smile,
why,
because she is truly happy alone.

She is not evil,
She does not hate you,
She is not dishonest,
She simply wants to be alone.
A Charmed LifeDoll-faced men and sinkholes, ancient tombstones
Leaves piled ankle-deep, falling down
Old wells, old graves, old friends lost
Pirate adventures in Neverland
Don't go into that barn

Ponchoboy and Rangergirl rise from the ashes
From the cold river, from afar
Remember before they were born, how they
Held hands and jumped into the world
Don't go into that school

Ladybugs, pennies, notes from the dead sun eclipse
Scrape the inside of your skull for clues
All the old dreams are still there, petrified
You are a rock of ages gibbering
Don't go into that factory
weight of the worldand suddenly--
it was like the world decided that
it didn't want to carry its burden any longer,
so it shifted the weight
into the hollows of my bones
and told me that
it was my problem now.
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More from *TwyceInABluMoon

Ride.Feet casually pressed against the windshield,
arms crossed over my stomach as I
look out the window;
the fluffy clouds above reflected in the rearview mirror,
a small smile on my face.

The horizon zipping by,
fields of corn changing, transition
almost dramatically
into shops and strip malls,
closing my eyes once more.

"You excited about going home?"
My brother in the driver's seat.
I could hear a sense of hope in his voice,
my chest tightening;
replying thickly, almost not wanting to speak,
to maybe just pretend I am asleep...

"It's not home anymore."

We fell silent for the rest of the ride.
Lost.I lost my way

again.

But I was hoping

you'd still come and

find me.
Past.All those that were once close to me;
dead.

I knew you couldn't protect them,
nor could I.

You hid behind your shield and
let them walk all over you,
blades drawn
and
pitchforks ready;
torches lit
and trusty steeds in steady.

I'm the only one left to fight...

You were all talk and
no walk,
and their blades
proved that,
with your head now a pike.

So I'll let my weapons

No hope left...
Fly.If I were a bird,

I couldn't fly away.

I've got too many problems that I face everyday.

But when I finally learn how to soar,

n o b o d y

will be able to shoot me down.
Guilt.Your voice right behind me,
clear as day
in the unlit room.

"Is there anything else you wanted to tell me?"

You sound exhausted,
breathing shallowly as
my eyes search the
inky darkness
for an answer.
Answers.

"No."

A simple answer,
yet not so simple
as I hate myself now.
I rue that response,
putting off once more what
I should've told you a long time ago.

If you can't trust yourself,
who can you trust?
My eyes wander aimlessly,
hoping to answer my own thoughts,
to calm them, to put them at ease,
so I may rest my head as well.
Guilt blooms in my heart.

But I let you sleep
and hope for the worst.
What's Wrong?"Help me," she whispered.
"What's wrong?"

She didn't respond. She just looked at her feet, solemn and broken.

"What's wrong?" He repeated.
He caressed her arm, hoping the contact could bring them closer to an answer, some kind of universal cure-all for the eternally depressed.
Her boyfriend stormed up, grabbed her by the hand - "Don't you fucking touch her." - and dragged her into the other room,
leaving him standing there.
The last thing he saw as the door slammed closed was her face staring back, mouthing,
"Do something,"
like her life depended on it.

It probably did, but he was just a child.
He stood there staring at th

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[x]

Young Forever.

:icontwyceinablumoon:

Let's stay up all night and talk about things that don't really matter,
but we think they do.

Lets be human.

Endless days of sun-soaking delerium.
Love in motion.

Rain falling hard and fast onto our heads
but we just laugh and pretend that we are going to be

young forever.

It's all just a dream in the end,
so lets live our lives however way
we want to.
:icontgfascinated:
~TGfascinated Mar 26, 2011  Hobbyist Writer
I love the confidence in your writing voice. You have a gentle strength born of self-confidence. It asserts wisdom, not power, as the force that guides you.

It's a great theme for a poem, and when I saw the title I was a little nervous that it would sound cliche. But I'm glad to say you've pulled off something in your own particular idiom that makes this topic seem fresh again.

I'm glad I came by this morning to read this!
Reply
:icontwyceinablumoon:
*TwyceInABluMoon Mar 26, 2011  Student Writer
Thank you!
Reply
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