So as the glitter faded
from her skin,
and from her eyes,

the wingless woman
could no longer take flight.

"I was thought to be 'stuck up.' I wasn't. I was just sure of myself. This is and always has been an unforgivable quality to the unsure."

                     -Bette Davis

I looked to my side and found an angel;

I can see my strengths. I can see my weaknesses. I can see you. You can manipulate me. You have. You will. I, however, am not afraid of you. I never was. I was afraid of what you threatened to take from me. But you can take no more. You will not take my hope. My strength. My compassion. My faith. And certainly not my trust. You will no longer make me doubt myself. There is nothing to doubt. There is nothing left. I was opened like a book. Like a freed mind. Breaths of life were breathed into my soul again. And I was set free. You watched me love. Grow. Fly. No. You did not watch. You could have. You turned your back. You could not bear to witness. You called me mean. Insecure. Jealous. Naive. You pointed out flaws. Flaws I once believed I had. But I looked to my side and found an angel. An angel who picked me up. Who gave me wings. Who erased my scars. You saw my angel walk along my side. You saw my angel raise me higher than you could ever be on your own. You saw the angel who had given me the heavens and the stars and the planets. You saw him. And you wept.

a total stranger one black day by E. E. Cummings

a total stranger one black day
knocked living the hell out of me--

who found forgiveness hard because
my(as it happened)self he was

-but now that fiend and i are such
immortal friends the other's each

I sit alone and lose myself
in the labyrinth of my mind.

I sense the monsters eating away
at my soul.

I feel a fire burning
deep inside my core.

I stand firmly on my mountain,
defending what I cherish.

I was always the one too sweet to hurt,
too lovely to destroy.

I clash with myself.

I am lost,
in a vicious cycle.

I put the knife down,
I put the knife down,
I put the knife down.
Not even a scratch.

Not tonight,
I will save myself.

I'm insecure, mean, jealous, and do not trust the man I am in love with. How ironic.

A stranger feels she knows me,
and all the things I've said.
How ironic to think a stranger
knows nothing about me at all.
Your facts are twisted,
Your heart is missin'.
Perhaps I'm just all the things you say I am.

Perhaps I am not.

and with tears rolling down her cheeks,
she realized one day, no one would remember her.
it hurt that everyone thought she was better than she was,
that they claim to push her just up to her limit,
before breaking,
to illuminate all of her strengths.
This time,
she didn't break.

no, she shattered.

my heart aches
when my mind replays
what my heart has felt
and how my skin has been touched,

but mostly
how she has felt the same.

"And she thinks I'm psycho cause I like to rhyme her name with things;"

SATs

dont scare me one bit.

Blue wrinkles,
enough breath left
for a fish.

Blue wrinkles,
and I hear sounds,
undecipherable jargon
thats sings so beautifully
to me.

Blue wrinkles,
and a sea creature appears
who seems to resemble a man.

Blue wrinkles,
and I am soaring
and spinning
and drowing
and living.

Blue wrinkles,
and I grow scales
to cover my insecurities
I have found in the air.

Blue wrinkles,
and I hear a symphony
of an alternate reality.

Blue wrinkles,
with distance.

Blue wrinkles,
with endurance.

Blue wrinkles,
again and  again.

Expectations
higher than my own.

Impressing everyone,
always,
only makes me alone.

As if
staying sane
is overlooked.

One day I will flex
my obicularis oculi
when I speak.

Not tomorrow,
Not the next.

When I fail,
and accept.