You suck in chemicals
Smoke
With a poignant stench
And your hands tremble
While I breathe in air
Clear
I'm not scared of the world like you
I don't want to be numb
To the sounds
Harsh and soft
I don't want that rose colored vision
You inhaled with a slight desperation
And blew out in smoke rings that got tangled in your hair
Lingering for hours on your frayed flannel shirt
Do you think they'll go away?
The skeletons in your closet
If you just cloud your mind enough
This toxic runaway
Won't rid their pounding on your door at night
So then...
Breathe
Truly
And exhale the fear
Somehow
I blend when I mean to be bold
And loud when I meant to be silent
My timing is awful
But my patience is thick
Waiting for the right moment
That might never come
They tried to make a blueprint of her
Detailed shapes
Drawn with rulers and measuring tape
Filled in with pastels soft
Sweet and meek
Beautiful but,
It was never quite right
Color bled over the lines
Blurring bold and bright
Into a lovely,
Lovely loud shape
The facts seep in
Deep into your mind
A wakeup call
To the wrong
The terrible
So atrocious
Enough to make you scream
And you can't do much but scream
Till you realize
A scream is strong
And a voice is Power
Use it.
He was always smashing into doors.
The kid across the street.
Always running or power walking
Too fast, too oblivious
To see the obstructions in his way
(Sometimes it was parked cars)
I'd see him smack into poles
When I glanced out my window
His friends would laugh
Their amused sounds traveling into my room
I laughed with them
Snickering into my curtains
He'd laugh too, rubbing his head
Slapping him on his back, joking
They'd walk away together
I'd watch them disappear around the corner
Away from me and my window
That rotting stench
That travels down your throat and gags you
Winces and pinches of the nose,
But it’s still there...
Stinking
Of spoiled dreams and expired opportunities
Lost goals
Lay forgotten
Out of the way in that heap.
I don’t know how he did it.
Grabbing onto junk and cracked things
Old and awful
Stained with regret,
But he piled them on anyway
Stacking
Building
A palace.
The sentence launched out of her mouth
Aiming for the head,
But missed
And hit the wall instead.
She waited for the bombs
The accusations
The BIG hit
Trailing the sentence came hushed words
That didn't make it very far
The letters fell by , shortening te wor til
one one
So the meaning dropped away too
Leaving the last few syllables spilling from her lips
Nothing but empty mur
It's a common misconception that the loudness you hear from music, the kind that beats your eardrums and vibrates through the speakers and down your body, remains in simple hertz.
Loud also takes on the form of girls clothed in hot pink dresses with electric blue bangs, who grab attention simply by walking into a room.
Loud is the courage of that one kid who stands up to the bully when everyone else backs down.
It is the spirit of the protestor.
Loud happens in penstrokes; words from authors and journalists shouting truth in their works.
Loud can even occur in silence because refusing to speak speaks volume.
Loud is making a statement t
Dear Lisa,
Will you please stop piling on that awful red lipstick. It makes your teeth look yellow and you don't even apply it right! I suggest a nice pale pink gloss. Like the one your friend with the rose hair clips has? Try it. By the way, trash your blue eyeshadow. You can't go walking around school looking like some clown if you're really intent on wooing that Tyson guy you're always gushing about.
Love,
Your Mirror
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Dear Mike,
If you put anymore gel in your hair, it'll never move again. Ever. Even when you want to go for that wind-swept beach