.

please don't be blue for too long

wrap yourself in loved ones, and things that bring you joy

it's there, I promise

needed comfort, please . I see all that good in you

it can't go to waste

moonlight has touched you once , it will do the same again

if you just let it

you know, it's lonely too , it doesn't travel in pairs

but it sees you, it feels you

it will listen . has it ever not?

please don't be blue for too long

such a beautiful little soul

covered in shadows , yet it is never lost

I see parts of you, and what I see fills me with a warm content

only because you exist . that's enough

and someday you will find the rest

give yourself time, it's needed

.

I like to think of my soul

In blacks and grays.

Polished and worn smooth,

Like something the tides made.

I’d imagine it as something

You’d overlook on a shelf,

Or sitting among the pebbles

Scattered across a quiet beach.

Something small and

Overlooked, hiding its beauty.

Waiting for when someone

Will take it from the shore.

Maybe one day, a stranger

Will pick up my soul.

They’ll look at it and think,

Oh, this could be so much more.

And they’ll carry it off the sands,

Holding it with care.

Maybe they’ll set it in jewelry.

Or perhaps it’d be better to stay there.

I don’t know what I want

For my small, polished soul.

Do I want to keep it for myself,

Or do I want to let it go?

I have a spot where all souls can go.

A palatial cavern ribbed with gold,

The floor is made of ivory and

Veined with onyx. But even

The strongest of castles

Can be hollow on the inside.

So what would be better for

This soul of mine?

A cold castle, embellished and fine,

Or the quiet beach, in

danger of a simple stranger’s

Curiousness of mind?

I am a coward. I am such a coward.

You know when people always talk about what they would do if something bad happens? Some people are more honest then others with their, “Yeah I would get out of there. I’m trying to save myself.”, while others are more concerned with their family, saying they would only save their mom or dad, kids or siblings. Then there are people like me. People that say, “I would sacrifice myself.” Do I really feel that way? I believe I do. I do love others much more than I love myself and would rather me die than everyone else.

But another point has been made. What if I sacrifice myself and it doesn’t work. Would I still be willing enough to save others if my life turned out to be a waste? Would I still be willing to throw myself in front of the barrel of the gun if it would just go through me and all the others?

Would I still be willing to bleed out on the floor, my head on the cold tile, and although I am unable to move and I struggle to breathe, I can watch others bodies absorb the bullets as they scream, the agony and fear blurring my vision and echoing in my ears? Would I still do it, knowing it was a lost cause, or would I do it, only with the comfort and satisfaction of knowing that everyone will be okay, maybe even me? Do I really care about these lives, or do I just want the fame and glory for my heroism?

My school is “due” for a school shooting. The bullying has become worse, kids have been starting fires in the bathrooms, and instead of afterschool, fighting is right out in the open, at the lunch tables, in the classrooms. Nobody cares anymore. There is something significant about this school year. So many kids are breaking down in class and people are threatening others with scarring, abuse, kidnapping, and even death.

Nobody has any love anymore. There is so much hate that one can feel when they enter the building. You can feel the anger and despair. You can feel everyone's souls dying and the love of learning be still in it's grave.

All of the phones are down today. The cameras aren’t working. None of administration can meet with each other or talk to each other via earpiece. This means that someting is going on.

Something bad.

And what did I do?

I got up. Grabbed my things, and I left.

I am a coward. I am a coward.

I write to inspire strangers, friends, and family

I write to express feelings that are fought inside

I write to be a writer of everybody else’s story, especially the untold ones

I write for everyone

I write for you

I write for me

I’m here again,

no matter how much I try to avoid this place,

I am forcefully sent here.

I hear the shout and curse at gate,

as she chides me why I have come again,

pestering her the whole day,

and she howls at her unfortunate luck,

of looking after me once again.

I wonder anew,

If that woman is actually my mother’s sister,

I listen in hush,

she rages on about my mother & father,

how my parents can’t take care of me,

And how they’ve chosen to earn than heed me,

Ire on my parents grows high,

She doesn’t allow me anywhere in house,

except the tiny boundary of the small chair.

I sit,

I look around,

I think,

I wish for the day I’m independent—

of my parents,

of this aunt,

of my dependence.

But where can I actually go?...

I hope for liberty...

—Written from the outlook of my cousin sister.

It wasn't what I wanted,

It wasn't what I had planned,

It wasn't the exact thought,

You thought I carried the whole day

Yet it so freely came from my mouth.

But the best part,

You believed it.