Watching

The world is

going up in flames.

we’re watching the people

made of cotton

burn it all down

 

and everyone else is

screaming.

 

isn’t it crazy?

how we’re so loud

and they won’t listen.

how we sit powerlessly in a

city hours away

and watch the house next door

burn away.

 

we are arguing about

paint,

pygmit,

melanin.

we’re arguing about the people

that aren’t in magazines.

 

The people that

make up our world.

 

I’m watching a movie.

evil films from the past.

all of these years blur

Into one

a mass of pain,

pain for the masses.

 

Nothing has changed.

 

fin.

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Beauty

     I have never met anyone capable of saying “beautiful.” I have never met anyone strong enough to comment on the wonders of the world that way. Are you capable of saying beautiful? Are you strong enough? When the word slips out does it taste awkward and new? Strange and unused? Are you sincerely commenting on the world?

     Does he tell you that you are beautiful when you are shattering? When you are sitting in the bathroom in a pool of tears wondering why you keep going? Does he hold you like you are made of porcelain? Does he watch you dream, wishing you would wake up to say your watercolor face is beautiful? If he does he is capable. He is strong enough.  

     You’ll feel like you aren’t strong enough sometimes. You’ll feel like you want to scream, but you can hardly whisper. You scoff and roll your eyes and sarcastically say it’s beautiful, even if you love the old lace, memories, and flowers.  If you are not ready to speak your truth to someone, if you are not ready to be your true, vulnerable, and floral self, then chances are they are not worthy of knowing it. But you’ll beat yourself up, because you’re scared. You don’t owe them anything.

     There’s a world out there, my dear, and it’s confusing to try to understand what you are going to do with it. Because part of you wants to know where the outside goes, and the other part in terrified. And are you ever going to let us know? Are you actually going to fly away, or are you only going to live in you mind. I beg you, go outside. Go outside with your new ability to say “beautiful” and find the things in the world worth seeing.

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The Youth

featured image via Pinterest 

 

Is it okay

that I’ve given up

that I have stopped believing in

Any kind of hope for

us dark-thinking teens?

Is it okay

that I’ve bitten all my nails

again,

That my anxiety is so intimidating

I plan my every move

to please it?

 

Will it all disappear

When the hormones smooth out

and we lock ourselves in cramped college dorms

or become working professionals

with fake families?

It’s hard to believe.

But you don’t really care,

Do you?

you say all we need

Is attention

But we are not getting any

no matter how vulnerable we

make ourselves

no matter how much skin we show

 

no matter how much we scream

all alone in an

Empty bathroom stall

No matter how much

we hope to god

someone at least says hello

 

I can’t peg down this feeling, so I say

I’m tired.

We are the sleepless generation and

“Tired”

Is the excuse of the century

exhaustion has become an emotion

because saying we’re ‘depressed’

is attention-seeking

And, after all

we’re leaning on 3 hours of sleep

Due to the milky insomnia

and why don’t they care

that the youth dreams of a happiness

that we’ll never get

 

because nothing changes

The world is still plastic

(but my mouth still tastes like metal).

And we don’t morph into geniuses

with perfect nails overnight.

maybe I’ll just

Wear pink and cut my hair

and hope it changes me.

Fin.

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