That Girl Is A Storm.

That girl is a storm,

Her ribcage rattled by the tempest

inside her.

Visions and daydreams wash over her like

Tidal Waves;

She often talks of the ocean in

her chest,

But rarely does she mention the

Shipwreck.

Her voice echoes like thunder over a

Spacious canyon,

And she is destructive as a great bolt of lightning.

She’ll laugh as you get lost in her

Hurricane eyes

And if you aren’t careful she’ll drown you beneath her

Clouded skies.

Keep Building

My dear,

Your life is crumbling down around you;

Great towers become nothing but piles of rubble,

While dreams of a future turn to dust;

Yet somehow in this mess and chaos,

You keep building –

Keep building your life

And your ambitions

Amidst the turmoil that surrounds you.
(keep building)

Cover Girl

 

Put the scalpel to my head

Slice me open

Take me apart and

Put me back together the way

I’m supposed to be

 

Mold me into your vision

Of beauty and grace

Make me one of your

Cover girls

Broken to perfection

 

Pick me apart

Glue me back together

I’ll have scars

But you can make it look

Like they’re not there

 

Put the scalpel to my head

Slice me open

Take me apart

And marvel at

The distorted image of who I am

Heart Shaped Burn

You lit a fire inside of me.

You began kindling it when we met,

and it grew stronger every moment I spent thinking of you.

Most people say they get butterflies, but me?

My stomach acid is gasoline and the moment we kissed,

you threw a match into it without a second thought.

Your hands burn my body, but I like the pain.

Your lips taste like ash and smoke and I swear, I’m addicted.

You keep me warm and light my way, but I’m scared;

because just as easily as you lit the fire,

you could put it out –

and all I’d be left with

is a

heart shaped burn.

Untitled

My hands grow weak as I

behold in the dim light

my unsure feelings’ flight

and I wonder but why

you’ve fallen for me in

a tangle of teen sin

and broken melodies.

And I beg you t0 please,

approach with caution and

hold on tight to my hand

because I’m afraid of love

but I can’t stop the sands

of time from falling

above us

to bury our bodies

broken and bruised with

melancholy.

I can’t stop myself from

falling deeper each day,

so please catch me

and I promise that I

will drown forever and ever

in this

strange

young

romance.

 

Who Am I?

Who am I?

Well, it’s funny you should ask, because honestly

I haven’t got a clue.

Every day I’m

bombarded by people telling me to be myself

but how am I supposed to do that when

I’m not sure who this “self” is

that they want me to be.

I like to think that everyone is unique and original

but nothing is really original.

I mean, everything is pretty much

a remix

a mixtape

a collage

and our minds are the bulletin boards we pin these ideas to,

taking some things off when they’re no longer relevant

and

adding new things as we see fit.

And our board is ever changing,

like our minds

like our souls

because everything we think

everything we encounter

everything we experience

everything we believe

remember

forget

create

destroy

perceive

like

dislike

feel

everything that goes up on our bulletin board of a mind

is who we are.