i hope you dance

with you
i dont have to hide
all that
i keep inside
i dont have
to be afraid
of judgement
from your gentle gaze
with you
i know i am safe
and my mistakes
may be erased
i can trust
the warmth i feel
in your arms
nothing else is real

what if im right?

what if youre exactly the same?

i really hope im wrong

but i wont play that game

what if you bounce

from one girl to the next

not realizing or caring

im not just here for the sex?

what if you lied?

and i trusted you

i gave ou too much power

and now theres nothing i can do

what if i fell

head over heels

and then you tell me

none of its real?

what if i let myself

get in way too deep?

believing all the promises

you never intended to keep?

but what if you

proved me wrong,

made me smile,

wrote me that song?

what if you were perfect,

something i cant even comprehend,

and what if you wrote this story

so i was happy in the end?

As your memory

Slips out of my grasp

my hands reach for nothing

You’ve disappeared too fast

I’m praying for a miracle

Holding your picture in my mind

Hoping for something

Something you’ve left behind.

little green monsters

with their eyes so wide

making you think

that theyre on your side

stealikng into your mind

as they push you too far

filling you with rage

as you forget who you are

you’ve been blinded

can see nothing through your hate

how do they expect

you to function in this state

no one notices

as it drives you to the brink

no one hears the shot

and its over in a blink.

Another one bites the dust

For being naive enough to trust

The lies that you so calmly whisper

Thinking you meant it when you kissed her

Believing that life was worth living

Accepting the lies that you kept giving

And as her heart pounds in her chest

You are the cause of her unrest

A failure still, as you have won

She watches the blood start to run

Before her eyes, her life flashes not

For she’d much rather have forgot

All the hell you put her through

Aren’t you proud of what you can do?

She lies with the knife still in her hand

With bloody legs that will never stand

Her body found, a mangled mess

The problem to never be addressed

Your cruelty that will never die

Though you have a thorough alibi

You murder cleanly, without a touch

Your method has been perfected too much

Add one to your score: a victim lost to your lust

As by your hand another one bites the dust

I’m not pretty enough

to be a princess.

Only the beautiful

can wear a crown.

I’m not brave enough

to be a knight.

Only the strong

can carry a sword.

I’m not quick enough

to be a bandit.

Only the fast

can live on the run.

I’m not meek enough

to be a servant.

Only the kind

can always wait.

I’m not quiet enough

to find my place.

Only the dead

can all coexist.

Prompt 1 (15 minutes): What happens after a person dies? do you have any hopes? fears?

After someone dies the pain stops. Nobody can hurt you anymore. I do not fear being dead. I fear a long drawn out death. To waste away for years doing nothing but waiting for life to end would be a more torturous death than anything I can imagine. The only thing I fear more than dying slowly would be to die prematurely. As an 18-year-old, so far I am simply disposable. While I may have impacted a few specific lives, to the world as a whole I am insignificant. I don’t want to die until I am significant to at least one small piece of the world. I’ve given a lot of thought to the way I might die, primarily because it is illustrated in my nightmares every night. Falling in front of a train, being eaten alive, starving to death, drowning, and being brutally murdered are all options I’ve considered. A person’s death should match their life. A terrible person deserves a terrible death. I don’t fit in. Society has rejected me because I have rejected it, and I am now an outcast, a freak. Why shouldn’t my death be freakish to match? I do not live in fear of this unusual occurrence. Dying might do me a favor. Putting an abrupt halt to this life I hate and taking me somewhere safe would be a blessing. I don’t know where I’ll go when I die. I was raised a Methodist, believing in Heaven and Hell, but also believing God was forgiving and loving enough to never send one of his children to the latter. I now disagree. I believe that we are now living through Hell as a test to get to Heaven. We just don’t know because no one has ever come back.