I could ramble on all day about the ethics of all the things our country’s done. 

But I won’t. 

Instead I’ll say this one thing: it’s going to happen again. 

Everything he’s done, it’s going to happen again or at least, continue happening. 

With a president like him, how could it not? 

But we ignore this.

We pretend like it’s a one-time thing.

Because we’re too scared to admit that maybe it’s going to happen again.

Too scared to protest unless we have nothing to lose.

Stand up.

Say no.

Please.

We can’t let him win.

there's a jar on my nightstand;

it used to be my grandmother's

but i recycled her memory 

into a pandora's box full of happiness.

the slips of paper are periwinkle

with dark purple penned messily,

almost disappears in my wall of twilight;

words written like they're in invisible ink.

i'm supposed to write a good thing

that happened on the day i write them (every day);

but i have to search through clouds for those moments

of complete joy, with even a slight smile on my lips.

and what happens when a lie is documented

and the jar is just filled with empty space

and the paper crumbles from streaks of tears?

it doesn't matter—

it'll be broken by the end of the year.

Sometimes I imagine 

That my life is a movie 

Each scene belongs to a song 

Each song to a scene 

Sometimes I let myself 

Just float in the music 

Like I'm in a sea of notes sharps and flats 

But I'm only the one there 

Just basking in the sounds 

Sometimes I put it on in the background

And let it course through my veins

Pumped by the beat of the drum

Lyrics drift through me like oxygen

Sometimes I let it cover me

Like a weighted blanket

Protecting me from my thoughts

Letting it comfort me

When nothing else can

Sometimes I blast it in my room

Dance around

Hairbrush in hand

I'm on the stage

Singing my favorite song

Not a care in the world

Sometimes I listen to it as I go to sleep

Letting my chest rise and fall

To the chords

My eyelids flutter shut

As it lulls me to sleep

Sometimes I listen to music

No

I always listen to music

Daydreaming and starring in my own movie

Sitting and letting it wash over me

Doing homework as it refuels me

Panicking but it stops me from falling too far

Dancing because it makes me feel like a pop star

Sleeping and feeling my brain quiet to the lull of the sound

I listen to music because even when

My life is a mess

My head a mess

Even when I'm a mess

It's always there

Steady

Constant

On beat

i break lines like a maniac 

obsessed with meter, st

opping thoughts before they begin

: a psy

                 chotic insomniac frankenstein's

scientist type f

                 alling

head over heels for the rewritten word.

it feels weird 

walking past you like strangers 

knowing i still remember 

everything about you 

from your favorite color 

to the deep thoughts 

you only ever told me 

it feels weird knowing how much

i used to love you 

as i walk past you like 

s  t  r  a  n  g  e  r  s. 

this night 

the light is a milky, silvery blue 

cascading down from the sky

in rays that look like liquid silk

dripping off tree branches 

and coating the world in a cool, heavenly glow 

it feels so good to walk through this night

in the biting cold

wearing pajamas 

and a heavy coat and boots 

even though it's a school night

where tomorrow's dawn brings you back to reality

the night is young

and being lovestruck always feels like paradise 

before the sun rises 

and takes your love away. 

There's a kind of love

And it's like hide and seek

An endless chase

Of shadows with flowing hair

Whispers of names and delighted laughter

Out of sight, whistling around you

Darted between trees and weaving through the meadows

Chasing, chasing, chasing, obliviously

Running, jumping, flying 

A sort of calculated play

Dancing and flirting and tempting

Hurling each tension into the wind

A mirage

You fill in the cracks until you're convinced you can feel his presence

Until you believe that you know his next move; because you know him

So it's another lap around

But each time it feels heavier and easier all at once

And surely enough, one day,

Your arm extends, and reaches out to grab onto this person, this idea

And you've finally won

But the prize isn't what you were looking for

In the end it's just someone you've made in your head

Who has the image of the boy that sits beside you in math class

You know nothing real about him

The only way to truly get him is to end the game of hide and seek