Here is another video I created using WeVideo!
Written, read, created, and mostly filmed by me
Song: "You're Somebody Else" Instrumental by Flora Cash 

There is sunshine this morning. 
It warps the frost on the window,
melts frozen feathers into my palm, 
dampens the folded cuff of my coat. 
I'm not waiting for anyone. 

This morning there is music resonating
down the hallway at school. 
Someone stands in the center of a room to my right,
mouth open,
dancing with words,
smiling only half as wide as me. 

There's ink on my wrist,
blued from writing late into the night 
when my bare feet refused to walk
in the solitary dark to the cold sink down the hall, 
wash my hands
with frothy soap under endless water. 

It was a matter of fact
Something Trashy didn't have 
All he had was a matter of time 
That was running out
Always something of flame
We knew Trashy was to blame 
I guess we never really understood
What he was about 

But his name
Became a game
I remember how we would shout

"Trashman
Come to get rid of the mess of the human race?
Soon you're gonna burn away the town
Are you gonna burn the whole damn world down?"
Young Trashy, Trashy was our clown

"Hey, Trashman
Don't you think it's best you burned off your face?
'Cause we're sick and tired of looking at you cry"
And to this day, I wonder why we felt so big 
When we saw our words leaking out of Trashy's eyes 

It was a matter of love
Something Trashy didn't know
Have I told you all the words we would call him? 
He was a matter of flame
Always hating at the rain 

I remember a time when I thought the world was a beautiful place.

I remember thinking about villains in stories and movies and laughing because everyone nowadays is so nice. How could anybody be that cruel? It didn’t make sense.

I remember history lessons, and the way we learned about war, discrimination, hatred. It seemed so far away, as if they were fairy tales told to scare us. The deaths, the victims, all of that was just numbers to us. An annoyance to fit so many zeros onto that one line we set aside for statistics.

I remember watching the news with my father half-heartedly. I didn’t understand what the person on the screen was talking about, and I didn’t really want to. I just wanted the person to stop talking about whatever he was going on about so we could switch back to Disney Channel.

One moment
One oppertunitity
A simple eye connection
And secret looks at the ground
A bag spilling with coins
Bills 
Faces glaring up at us
Screaming take me.
But this money comes with a price
We both know that.
Take the money 
Pay the price
And you're filthy rich.
In money anyway.
Our hands touch on the bag
A thick canvas sack
Rough under our fingertips
Take the money
In that moment our eyes meet
A train whistles
We stand up and walk away.
Our heel clicks fading into the distance, 
Leaving behind an undesirable canvas sack

 

A charcoal sketch of long ago
Our footprints faded in the snow.
The smell of honey always stays
A reminder of the far off days,
When we liked each other
Sister from another mother.
Music you played I can't delete
It continues on in my heartbeat.
I know I should say adieu
And start letting go of you,
But I can't bear to break your heart of glass
So I guess this lie will forever last.
We are doomed to be together I suppose
Just like the thorn and wild rose.
Someday I'll tell you how I feel
Our movie reaching the end of its reel.
But untill that time
Though our friendship is sublime
I"ll look into your starry eyes
And hope the rain will leave the skies.


 

Our story begins in the bare forests of Vermont, with me. One water molecule among hundreds of others, formed together as a snowflake that is lighter than a feather. It is a wind forsaken day, and the leaf I sit upon doesn’t stir, though it is dipped low to the ground with the weight of many others like myself. Snow covers the landscape in a never ending blanket. And then slowly, as if in a dream, we watch as white turns to green, bringing with it the melty warmth of spring. The nearby river swells with runoff, and as I drop to the ground, now unfrozen and swift, I feel certain I will be joining it soon. But wait! In front of me.. Something white.. I’m stuck to its sides and become slowly absorbed. Roots. As I travel through the plant, other collected molecules beside me are turned into nutrients, but I find my way to the pores at the top of the leaf, and begin transpiring to the sky above.

The brushes of the winter wind
Whisk across the cottage windows.
Only in the darkness do they paint
For they are shy
And work best in the night.
When the world is fast asleep
They come
They come across the freezing moor
Peering in the windows of all the houses
Riding the tendrils of clouds
Carried along by the gusts of chilly wind.
They come to each window
And dip their brushes in the frosty air.
Then they create 
They paint small spirals and designs all over the glass.
They dance through the winter air and dab at their canvas.
When each window is a masterpiece
They retreat back to the sky.
In the morning,
The children wake up and gasp in surprise at the painters' work.
They use their fingers to add their own touches to the frosty art.
Soon the sun
Melts away their work 
Clearing the canvas
So the winter painters can cover them once more.
 

I'm Sorry, But...

I’m sorry, but...
What are we teaching the kids these days?
Are we teaching them to go along with whatever the most dominant person says?
Don’t have opinions, just move on, avoid distress.

I’m sorry, but…
That’s not going to work for me.
Why is it considered bad when someone states they have a side?
When they want to do or be one thing over another?
Saying “I don’t care,” “whatever,” “it doesn’t matter to me...”
Makes you a better person, the desired person, more so than the one who actually knows what they want?

I’m sorry, but …
That just doesn’t seem right to me.
Why is it good not to have a preference?
I’m always told that I care too much.
I always try not to care.

I’m sorry, but...
Remind me again why I don’t want to care?
Why is that wrong, and bad, and strange, and different?