High school.
Emotions.
Acne.
Video games with more gore.
These are simple changes when being fourteen,
Not as important as being forty four.

Adults look at you like you're five.
Five year-olds look at you like you're an adult.
They say grow up, but enjoy being a kid.
They say take on responsibility, yet you're to young to go to the mall alone.

They'll ask if you have a boyfriend, if hes older, or why dont you have one.
They'll say boys are trouble, stay focused on school.

They'll ask if you're getting fat, or if you're pregnant.
They'll ask you to stop eating 'cause you're eating to much.
They'll ask if you're anorexic 'cause you didn't eat desert.
They'll say you don't need to diet when you ask for water and not a soda.

Maybe you should spend sometime with you're friends.
Maybe you should spend sometime more at home.
You just sit around all day!
You're always out!

You always help out around the house, thank you.
All you do is nothing! Help out around the house, please!

Grades are here!
A
A
A
A
A
..C

(engage rage mode)
HOW COULD YOU GET A "C"!
YOU SHOULD OF STUDIED!
THESE GRADES ARE UNACCEPTABLE!!!
NO MORE GOING OUT!!
NO MORE PHONE!!!
NO MORE COMPUTER!!!
NO MORE VIDEO GAMES!!
NO MORE DOOR!!!
NO MORE NOTHING!!!!!

All you do is study, why dont you go out with you're friends sometime?

* face palm

I'm all alone, alone, alone to write me,
I'm all alone, alone to invite me,
I'm all alone, alone to send me emails,
I'm all alone,  alone to lend myself ear,

You're ALL together; together in places,
You're ALL together, together you leave traces,
You're ALL together, together you have parties,
You're ALL together, together you are,

I'm all alone, alone in this home,
I'm all alone, alone is MY kingdom,
I'm all alone, alone like my thoughts,
I'm all alone, alone to hear myself talk,

You're ALL together, together you are united,
You're ALL together, together you are invited,
You're ALL together, together you are MADE happy,
You're ALL together, together you sit there laughing,

I'm still alone, alone, and I'm rich,
I'm still alone, alone, and I'm satisfied,
I'm still alone, alone, and I'm delivered,
I'm still alone, alone, and I'm....

My poor, stupid poodle,
peed on the pedestal
of Cleopatra's needle
on Victoria embankment,
near the Golden Jubilee bridge.
( Oh! I am miserable!
I couldn't stop the debacle)
The poodle's puny misdeed
embarrassed not just me,
but the whole city of Westminster,
as fire alarm rang out loud,
when an overzealous constable
gave a distress signal.
It brought the fire chief himself,
who came rushing to meet
the emergency situation,
thinking the poodle was trying
to put out a fire erupted
on the ancient monument,
once shipped to England,
overcoming great adversities,
from Africa, long back.

And there it was again.

As I entered the room, our eyes met, yours icy cold, mine on the edge of tears, and for a moment I thought you knew. I'm not sure what it was... A mixture of disgust, shame, pity, and maybe a bit of understanding. What gave it away? How do you always know exactly what goes one deep within my thoughts?

i want to show you my scars. all of them.
and tell you the story.
i have many, i know. and probably 50 more will be added.
the ones blossoming on my shins & knees,
that's what happens when you're active in summer.
the one under my bottom lip,
i was young and my slumber met a sharp ended edge.
the ones on my hands,
let's just say the oven isn't my good friend.
and the other scars...
those are the scary stories.
those are the ones i lock away.
the ones on my stomach, my wrist, my arms.
those scars hold no stories, only nightmares.
those scars were no accidents, only battles.
i lie, most of the time, when questioned.
but you are not judgmental.
these scars, i know you could never fully understand.
but if i share my story,
if i tell you the secret beneath the scare tissue,
can you at least try?

I walk with ghosts. They haunt me every day, and every day I remember.

I remember that time when we were going to head home. It was raining--pouring--and for the first thirty seconds after our realization of that fact we were unhappy, afraid of being wet and cold. Afraid of the shadows outside, and the rivers running tracks down the hill. We were uncomfortable. We wondered if we should wait it out--let the clouds cry until they fell asleep. Spend our lives under those fluorescent lights watching raindrops chase each other down grimy windows, our breath fogging the glass below our noses.

But then, something hit us. There was the act of waiting, staring down droplets like each and every one of them was a curse against us. . . or there was the act of forgetting. Letting go. Being free. A little bit of cold and wet was no match for us, whatever we were.

I remember the sweet sound of the heavy doors slamming behind us, and the feel of those first few raindrops hitting my eyelashes, my nose, my arms (which I had freed from my jacket so I could soak up every ounce of the shower). I remember we ran through the streets, yelling out the excitement that had materialized magically within us, laughing at the echoes bouncing off the quiet houses, at the strands of hair glued to each other's faces, at the sheer ridiculousness of our lives.

I remember throwing my bag onto the ground and breathing in chilly air. I remember watching the little splashes interrupting the calm surface of every puddle, and then throwing myself into one without a second thought, feeling the water flow over every part of me, and laughing as I stared up into the sky at the droplets falling into my face.

                {I wondered what it would be like to touch the surface of a falling raindrop. To freeze it in midair and have the satisfaction of holding it my hand, as if it were a diamond}

Soon they were laying beside me, our arms creating warm connections, and we were laughing and silent and laughing again, sharing the power of everything around us.

We made rain angels in the road, and I smile every time I think about it.

And then, the hurt hits me, like I'm back outside that day, only each tiny raindrop has transformed into a shard of those stupid grimy windows. I watch as they plunge into my skin, and I'm horrified because no one is there to tell me that my tears can't mix in with the rain that isn't falling.

Its not real in reality
But it lives through mentality
Mind was built from basic human functionality
So Body can live through the death of reality
Survive by the book of strategy
You could get it from divinity
Trapped in a place called society
Everything falls like tragedies
When mind travels through fantasy
Body gets left behind in reality
So there can be solutions for mystery
The wise one said use weapons of positivity
But how will it stop negative infinity
Dumbstruck by the variables of possibility
The geniuses flee from the laboratory
Isn't this whole thing insanity?