Poetry

I write to relate,

and to speak my truth.

I write to prove I know pain,

and to see that others do too.

I write to be heard.

When the world becomes a deaf frustration,

I'm most likely to spend all night reading

and then regret it the next day. 

I'm the most likely to bring cookies for my friends

just to be the only one who likes them. 

I've never felt second best,

Being a twin, you get asked a lot of questions:

"Who's older?"

"Who's smarter?"

"Who's the favorite?"

creaks and creaks and won’t stop

the wind is wet and tangled in a fever

craggy maple hits smooth spruce walls

a wild night                 the dog

opens and opens and won't stop

in the mud,

in the dirt,

in the silt,

in the pores of the earth,

with the worms,

the moles,

the bugs,

Inspiration is a fickle thing.

It toys with my emotions.

Fool's spring,

it instills false confidence,

making me feel like I

could change the world,

sitting on my couch

in my flannel pants

Someone asks me, “What is your favorite book?”

I say, “I do not know.”

How can I choose?

How, in this world of 

thousands upon thousands

Every time a women makes 87 cents

A man makes a dollar

For every time a woman gets spoken down on

A man is the speaker

For every time a woman gets called weak

A man is weaker

In order to live, the human body needs three things:

Food, water, and air. 

In order to thrive, the human body needs just a few things:

Shelter, love, and care. 

The clock is ticking, the Earth is crying,
A world once lush, now slowly dying.
The skies are choked with smoke and dust,
The oceans rise, the forests rust.

Internet
Donut
Koala

Wombat
Hot chocolate
Animals
Taco

Thursday
Office

Donkey
Olive

SOUL

OCEAN

ICE

MELTED

ANT

DEER

I'm so mad I can hardly write poetry anymore, 

every word rushes out and tumbles down, 

knocking the inside of my skull, 

a dull roar that follows me to school and home again.