The top secret.

The night you left me there, the night you left me to cry, to scream out in such defeat,

I would have died if it wasn't for the strength inside of me that refused such request.

Those demons you left me with were persitant in pushing me closer to the street,

Those thoughts swarmed overwhelmingly inside my head drowning out all the rest.

I almost lost control, let my feet led me into the path of a busy intersection,

Because you might not understand, but I didn't know how to live without you.

I didn't know to proccess that the one person who was supposed to love me could turn me away in complete rejection,

This reality I was to accept was heartbreaking, and left my vision tainted by painful hues of blue.

I was still young, and inable to express how much I needed, you, my father,

At the very least you could have said goodbye, you could have gave me a hug and wished me the best.

But you were preoccupied in your lies, to consumed to even bother,

Do you realize that you left me there alone feeling like this was a trick, a trial, a test?

No way this was real, the pain to overbearing to even ponder the thought,

But when you didn't return, when denial pushed my head from it's shoulder, I had no choice.

The tug a war between my head and heart was fought,

And somehow, someway, I would have to find my voice.

My head had clearly won that battle and I'd continue on another day,

Trying desperately to forgive, and to forget so time couldn't make me resentful,

Shaking my head at thoughts of words that I should have said to convience you to let me stay,

While trying to imagine the tragic life I'd live, the constant string of diaster, nothing short of eventful.

It hurts to be so young, and to feel so much, to have to see things from your eyes,

To be told nothing less than perfection will be accepted and this is just a matter of playing the game,

Constantly feeling as if my emotionss must remain six feet under, making truths feel like lies.

And knowing that nothing will ever be the same.

I will never be so concerned over the whispers, and snickers of class mates,

Or over the end of a silly crush, because I know what it is to feel pain,

I now know not to take a second for granted, to always live in the furture and don't focus on what awaits.

I know the long rides back and forth and that there will be tears shed as the distance seperates us, as i sit and reminisce on the train.

The pain that is relived with every visit and the source of the all my insecurity,

But if anything i took with me this, i can survive anything, that a heart can be broken, and like bones it can heal.

I became a much more than just a girl, gifted with maturity.

The untold story.

Selfish, and spoiled, you can't seem to stop the chatter,
Can't take a second to bow your head in silence and consider what things really matter,
Your head is filled with the new technology, and the latest fashion,
Rumors, and drama is your only real passion.
You paint your face every morning and plan out who will be your next victim,
Check your split ends, time for a trim.
You look through the thousands of dollars your parent's paycheck have invested in keeping you 'cool.'
Just a bunch of idiotic, absent people using money as the prefered parenting tool.
So you deciede what outfit will appeal to those kids who fancy you so, aim to impress.
Finally you decide to wear that new little dress,
Best wear it while it's style is still in,
To waste such money would be a sin.
Because by the time it has been woren once or twice the season has long since changed,
And your closet is frequently being rearranged.
No attachment to those fabrics occupying hangers shoved into the back,
But the knowledge of the stories you seemingly lack.
Grab the shirt off the closet floor, feel the silk between your fingers.
Now close your eyes, let me paint you the picture so tragic it lingers.
The children in India, the children still full of youth, have the blisters to show for that shirt,
The hours spent in a factory filled with silent complience, surrounded with filth and dirt.
Dust fills their lungs with every single  breath,
With burns and cuts so bad they can be credited for their death.
So please, just for a moment, think about everything your blessed with.

The incomplete.

Observation one, your chest is rising and falling, a motion associated with breathing. And yes, your really quite alive, it appears. But a lesson learned all too often, and taken to heart not nearly enough, nothing is what it seems. The clouds aren't just clouds, they are rabbits and dragons, the imagination of children at their finest. The rain is more than just rain, it's the opportunity to wash away your tears, to live and to laugh, to forgive and forget. That smile you wear is a smile learned, rehearsed, and painted beautifully, but it's not felt. An illusion, intended to mislead, deceive. 

Observation two, your face flushes at the sounds of snickers, and your heart drops all to often with uncertainty and fear. Afraid they are laughing at you, afraid that your never going to ease up, never going to be able to hold your shoulder back and fight fire with that gorgeous smile of yours. It all begins with this moment, this very instant, smile to yourself. Your blessed with everything they're not.

Observation three, you are right in front of me, and although you feel as if your too preoccupied with being preoccupied you must realize that you, whoever you are, are the most amazing person. You are one in a million, and as hard as it might be you must hold onto life with everything you have, you must not let them make you feel like your just another body occupying space in the morgue. Your do good to be so dead.

The paint brush.

Take a step back,
Let the smoke color the sky black,
Her bridges are burning,
The tables are turning.
-
Spinning faster, and faster,
Until everything goes away.
And she's back in the park she used to play,
Air crisp, sky blue, she wouldn't dare peek.
Her motivation was clear, it's the attention she'd seek.
-
The fear that if the game came to an end,
She'd be left alone, looking for a friend.
Grass green, dew fresh,
Her emotions stayed tangled in a confusing mesh.
-
She loved so and tried accordingly,
But her willingness to care never came without a fee,
Constant disappointment rattled her spirit,
She had grown so weary she came to fear it.
-
Terrifed of getting hurt,
Yet she braved on, played on, her faced streaked with dirt.
Orange glow as the sun fell,
She knew the time was coming to say forewell,
-
She faced her fears,
Fought back her tears,
Hoping, Praying, Begging this would not be the end of it,
Hoping, Praying, Begging they wouldn't forget.
-
The young and loving girl with the big heart,
Left that day, with a smile on her face as she turned to depart.
That young girl fought day in and day out,
And constantly pondered what life was about,
-
For the hollowness in her chest,
Was numbing at the very best.
And years of struggle made her retreat,
Return to her shell in reluctant defeat.
-
She learned not to trust or care,
And she learned the risk if she did dare.
Now she's burned her bridges and blackened the skies,
Left with the tables turned and muffled cries.
-
For this world is a harsh one,
It feeds on fear and leaves all your hopes and dreams undone,
Until one day you have to revisit the past,
Promise yourself that this tear with be the last.
-
Learn to love even when the ones you loved so have turned you away,
Learn to fight these fears until your dying day.
For living in such consumption isn't living at all.
Learn to have faith in every flaw,
For living is such a painful chore if you live with such a belief
Learn to forgive and forget for it will seve as a huge relief,
For living in this world you can't rely on anyone else.

The an[goodbye]otic

Job well done, detective, you found the fine print, apparently it read as follow: 
Fathers are only required to met the needs of his child/children until his child/children need him the most at which point it's appropriate to proceed with life disregarding his child/children.

Directions: Take every ounce of hope and trust from the child/children. 
Look us in the eye and lie, we all know your as wrong as sin. 
Pretend your looking out for us, when clearly us means you. 
Your inability to pick up the phone and call was the first clue. 
The drunken words mumbled in and out of consciousness, 
After months and months away and all I get was this?
See I never thought I could lose you, dad. 
I can't help but to feel hurt, helpless, sad. 



Caution: Withdrawal may be easier for some than others. 
The best solution is not to ship them away to their mothers. 
You promised I'd always be your little girl, you swore.
As saddening as it is, I'm forced to realize you don't feel that way anymore. 
Call poison controls if the following symptoms occur, 
A heartache lasting for 6 months or more, vision tainted by tears, a blur. 

Can someone hand me a phone?

The purpose of the trails.

The destination seemingly far, yet patiently it awaits,
Your abilitly to alter the stories opens for you many gates.
Dance with your shoulders back, and sporting a perfectly painted smile.
Hearts so broken as all the lies start to compile,
You chase away your racing thoughts as you struggle to deal,
To find a place where this frantic world remains still,
As you slip into a different realm that is ever more real,
The place discovered only by the people with the strength to feel.
Not those who run from the hurt or credit the lies as truth.
Or the ones who hold desperately onto their youth.
But the ones who face this emotion,
That address the conflict, the sorrow, the commotion,
And take from it the scars and positive outlooks,
With this knowledge they live out their lives in storybooks.
Constantly setting the moods, escaping into a world within ours.
Eluding concieved confines, restricting bars.
This is so much more than a dream,
And much more ideal it would seem.
The abilitly to conqure the fear within ourselves,
To write the endings to all the favorite dust covered stories stashed upon the shelves.
The ability to look fear in the eyes,
And to recall those unbelievably rattling cries,
To know that you made it through the fire,
And that pain allowed you to aim higher
So begin on a new path.

The proposal.

We flirt with the idea of perfection because we’re to afraid to commit,
But this is only temporary madness,
Surely to be followed by bliss sealed with a kiss,
And topped with a life long guarantee.
Oh there I go again, rambling insanity.
But who is to say insanity isn't sane? So yes, i'll paint a world so divine,
Perfection to a t, fit to standards declared by me.
And regardless of what the white lab coats suggest,
I'm nothing more than sane at best,
Today, i'll start packing for my trip to my world of make believe.
A world filled with love, and hearts worn on sleeves,
Knowledge as common as boston cream pie,
Limits so high they couldn't possibly be stopped by the sky
My world of fiction, has gotten down on one knee.
More than ready to commit fully.

The glass shoe shatters.

Fairytales have ruined your perception,
The perfect little storylines are nothing more than deception.
Delightful acts of violance have never been so charming.
The intentions of the characters are often alarming.
Your heart, thought to be valued, is nothing more than a gimmick,
The axe man sent with a purpose, twisted and sick.
Trust, like a poisoned apple, is potentially tragic,
A kiss, could save the day, a brilliant act of magic,
But the rareness that our lives end,
Where the main characters and happiness befriend,
Is growing and so we'll read on and continue to pretend.

The sealed letter.

Dear That Guy,
I don't regret you,
but I do regret what you started,
and what i can't take back.
I don't miss you,
but I do miss the feeling your company gave me,
and life without this yearning to find what you took.
I don't care for you,
but i care that i gave you my trust
and in return you reminded me why i kept that to myself.
I don't think about you often,
but when i do it's painfully matter-of-the fact,
and you were just that guy,
and i was just that girl,
and we were just never meant to be.
I don't resent you,
but i do resent that you knew this all along,
and the fact you lead me on.
I don't cry for you,
but sometimes i think back to the moments when i did,
and i want nothing more than for you to have shared that pain.
I don't hate you,
but i hate that you could get away with this so carelessly,
and i hope you met my dearest friend, Karma.
Love, that girl.

The sleeplness nights.

You chose not to close your eyes when you rest your head,
Purposely evade sleep, intentionally toss and turn in bed.
The fear of waking up to face reality that simply couldn't compare,
You were always more comfortable with truth than dare.
Always more willing to take the truth head on than to dance with the lies.
The kind of person who read the last page first so they knew to perpare for the goodbyes.
You were always waiting, ever so patiently, for the other shoe to drop,
Always waiting for the pain so unbearable it caused your heart to stop.
Because ever since you were just a child they answered you the same,
Your not loveable, and you can't trust me to love you, what a shame.
Time and time again you try, fueled by the shimmer of hope you've managed to save.
Only to find your stuck on a chain, never fulling taking a risk, fear has turned you into a slave.
So you stay awake at night, working, working to save that fire.
Disregard all the roadblocks, disregard every thieve, every one whose intent is to decieve, every liar.
And focus your efforts on making this world better than your best dream.
Fix the tears, the rips, repair the neglects to the seam.
I dare you.

P.S. You don't need to read the last pages to know how this will end if you don't take the risks.