(This is a sprout of ameliajane's All The Things I Can See. I tried to make it the opposite. This person is an extrovert)
I don't let them stop and question,
My motive or my direction,
Not because of suspension
Or because of the atteniton.
It's a thrill, a whirl, I am the sun that they orbit around I can talk I know everyone, everywhere I say "hi" almost anywhere.
Those are the things I love Giggles turning into cackles Because I don't care. Nothing slows down or goes on a loop. I don't stick to my own group. My comfort zone has been left so many times, Maybe I forgot to lock the door behind me. I don't care, I run free.
It would be hard to keep to myself. I would be a puppet Lying limp. But I'm not because It's OK To be me
Sometimes I struggle To reach out To say words And to make my point in a clear and positive manner Sometimes I let the silence thrive Off my inability to speak how I feel And sometimes I have to write To show That I need help.
This is the story of my Grange. If you don’t know what that is, here is a definition: It’s a fraternal organization in the U.S. that consists of families coming together to promote economic and political well-being of the community and agriculture. Or more simply: We do things to help our community. I have many fond memories of that place. I met some of my first friends there. I’ve done so many activities as a kid there. I was a part of the Junior Grange. I remember when my Grange still had that. One of the biggest memories I have is going to Grange camp. I’m still friends with some of the people I met there. They were from other towns and other Granges. Then I turned 14 and was old enough to join my sister and parents in the Subordinate Grange. Being with the adults somehow made it all more real. I started noticing just how few members there are.
This is not a love poem, as much as I want to write one. I tried my best to make you see what your smile does to me. But one last push and one last tease have pushed me over the edge. I am finally over you. Too many tears shed, too many secrets well kept. In the end, everybody knew except you. You called me small and told me I was wrong. Yet then you saved me a seat and seemed to actually care. I can't read the signs and I doubt you can even see mine. I'm done waiting around for something that's never going to happen. In the spirit of Valentine's Day, I've decided to write you an unlove poem.
I tried to learn how to fly on wings made of pages torn from books lost under the bed. I tried to learn how to float and made myself a boat out of dreams I stored away in a box. I take off the labels that float above my head, and cover my hands in paint. I fold them all up in a neat little stack and paint the blank wall blue. Slowly I lose myself in the colors free of the things I am known as. I don't know what I am painting until it is already there. Rip up my pile of labels and scatter the shreds on the floor. You won't find me in any dictionary. I can't be defined in a sentence or two. You'll find me in my colors and in my trail of things left behind. Wings and boats and paintings define who I am. Covered in colors from head to toe. All free of labels somewhere up in the clouds, and now I'm not coming down.
she waits in black by The Door she crumples her tissue but her Tears continue to pour that smooth black box is Too Much to bear those eyes contnue to stare even if they're Not there what is that sound? the beating of a Heart it could not be it contiues to taunt and never Stop why does it hurt? even if it's not Me? i'm not the one in that Smooth Black Box i'm just the one waiting in black by The Door.
I left that morning to find something for you something special, or from the heart. And I found it, I had to go down, far down, and when I did, I found it. I put them in a case, and wrote a note, ‘I went deep for you’. A special meaning to you, and nobody else in this crazy world of adventure. I would, and will, do anything for you, even if it means I have to put my life on the line. I will always have a place in my heart for you, and just you. My gift to you is not as special as others think, but to me it’s part of my world. This is just a small poem I came up with the idea of rocks, special rocks.
Once in the middle of the night there was a person named grady. he was in the woods on a walk. he saw an old log cabin he went to see what is inside. He went in when he walked in, he saw an old teleportel he saw a button on it he pressed it. it made a blue flash he walked into it.when he walked into it got the power of when he laughs fire comes out of his mouth. So he laughed and burnt the old teleportel. 2 years later: he was at a party with his friends. When they were walking out of the party grady’s friends made the dumbest joke that will ever be told and he laughed for some dumb reason and now his frineds name is ash if you you know what hppend to him 2 years ago you will know why his frineds name is ash.Then cops came and he went to jail for 4 years. Year 3,Grady did not want to be in jail anymore so he laughed and burnt the wall down. When he got back to where he lived. he lived in a place called rutland vt. When he went into a store to buy some milk for a target.
The wind was shaking the trees behind me. I look back, nothings there but the trees swaying leaves. I continue my walk, as the wind brushes my shoulders. The wind picks up, a hollaring screech whispers in my ear, but I'm safe.
Tomorrow, Jannuary twenty fourth, 2020, I wish for a solution to climate change that will save our earth. On January twenty second, 2031, I wish for all wars to stop and never start again. And on January twenty second, 2056, I wish for a cure to every disease.