Her eyes are a festival of warm tears; 
her ears are a melody of cold fears,
for the aria she once heard has turned black—
black as a tire that has hit a flat.
The world is a void of endless solitude,
for the world she knew is quietude.
Vibrations rise through her feet;
now, she won't accept defeat,
for if she is the mighty dragon,
she will wave the flag and
sing her battle song:

I can hear,
I can hear
but in a different way.

I can speak,
I can speak
but only with my hands.

Deny me or don't;
tie me with rope;
I certainly won't
give up my hope
to be seen as someone
who can hear
and speak.


The world, much like the human race, is stitched together into a clock; 
at some point, the hour hand, the minute hand, and the tiny second hand will stop at its permanent midnight.
Life was meant to be Paradise, but the juice of the fruit created a mechanic toxin of complexity: somethings are black and white; others are gray.
Above all things we learned, this be the worst: fear.
While human curiosity expands by the minute, vanity itself is the lord of nature.
Why pause in the influx of time to have stopped vanity and fear from reigning when the elements can be bent to our very will?
Why must there be plain patterns in the human race when we can be a patchwork quilt of diversity?
Stand up with pride.
There's no shame in being a diverse hue.
There's no shame in human identity.
But treat your pride with a humble mind: let not fear reign; cure fear with the ability to fathom another diverse hue.


I'm the girl under a cloud of gray.
I'm the one who never understands
How conflict a world it is in which we live.
Time goes right and left until it collides.
Good and bad intertwine in the middle of the clouds.
Apparently, it's human to live in the leeway.

I'm the girl who measures life in sunshine,
A complete contriatidiction,
I know.
Yet, I live in the gray darkness until I fathom
what it means.
I live in a world where left is right, and right is left, up is down, and down is up.
Still, I live my life with fleeting luck.

I'm the girl who can't stand listening to her voice—
for some reason, I always have to be perfect.
If it's not, it's not worth it.
And for some reason I'm gold by choice—
Not the best word,
But you heard.

I'm the girl who questions every turn in life;
I wait for fate and destiny to intervene.
I'm that idealiste of paranoia.
I'm selfish.
I'm brave.
I'm weak.
I'm humble.
I'm hopeless.
I'm a romantic.
I'm a cloud of thunder.
I'm me.

the ballerina

A melody pirouettes in the darkness of my brain; 
a haze of color, ignites me, fight me, until I am tamed.
Toes pointed.
Body fluent in untold grace.
Stomach tucked in.
Legs long.
Breath, a song.
"Here the cheers," they say behind the curtains,
a drapery of velvet tears,
an elegy of youthful years.
"Here the chears," they say.
Who can hear cheers
If all they hear is their heart
in their chest,
crying in its emptiness?
"They will fuel you."
A swirl of air billows around my hollow shell,
but what do they see?
A mannequin of bottled tears,
scars of shame,
a wiry brain warped in every misdirection?
They see fire beyond compare,
A heart to control,
A skinny girl blind to their ambitions.
But no,
They won't get what they see.
They get me,
An emberish ballerina
ready to be free.



Once upon a time,
a dark fairy
chose a heart of gold.

Once upon a time,
the prince's heart
She earned,
Rising from the cuts
And burns.

Once upon a time,
she loved him
For his heart
Not his crown.
Once upon a time,
she turned the world

Once upon a time,
She became fire,
Igniting from the her soul of ember.

Once upon a time,
Once upon a lilac symphony,
She burned,
She learned
Her heart
Is ember.
And she is

The Phoenix

The Phoenix

Born from ember,
That's what I am.
Born by crystallized blood,
Born with the heart
Of the phoenix.

Iron pierces my heart
When tears hit my chest,
But my pain
It's green.
You cannot hurt me.
When your bullets
Ricochet off my heart
You will feel the glow
Of my strength.

Your words,
Your stick and stones,
Your will to strike me down
It ignites the fire,
The will to be ember
The will to be more than possible.
I am more than bulletproof
From your hate.
I'm more than diamond
From your iron.
I'm more than titanium
To your power.
I'm unprecedented,
I'm ubiquitous.
I'm more than human.
I am the phoenix.

As you can tell, I have seen Maleficent: Mistress of Evil this week. For this reason, I will be making odes to my favorite Disney Villains.

The Rose

Youth is a treasure,
It's meant for pleasure;
It's meant for discipline;
It's meant for sin.

Youth is a rose.
When it blooms,
Its beautiful, rich petals
Your senses they consume.
You are the sun—
Your rays allow for the rose
To grow.
You are the water—
You keep the rose
You are the seed—
You plant the possibility of youth.

But there are times when too much water
Drowns the rose
There are times when too much sun
Dries out the beauty of the rose.
Like a rose,
Youth flowers just like the rose;
It there for one season;
Then it goes.
The rose petals begin to wilt
And just like that,
the world is still.

Youth is a treasure.
Youth is a rose.

Saturday night

In the strobe lights,
Another Saturday night,
Another party in my brain,
Another rambunctious Sorry game,
I see your face
Beautiful like china,
Beautiful as Paris.

You stick out
Among a row of men
In white collars
And black suits.

Limpid pools
Of ocean blue,
Flitting from the cerulean screen
Glowing against your face,
And back to me.

The strobe lights begin to flicker,
And the white collars disappear.
The world is us
If we establish thus
A bond,
If we establish thus
A place
Where we mix together like yin and yang,
Together like melody and harmony.

The stitches of fate bind together.
Warm intertwines with cold.
Fire and rain neutralize.
And the world curls into brightness.

Once upon a time.


I see a rainbow
After every storm of tears.
Crystallized like a diamond,
It calls me.
Red for the flames.
Orange for the hair-pulling.
Yellow for the sunshine of smiles.
Green for every time I overreact.
Blue for the sea that calms me.
And purple for the maturity of my soul
Young and old.

I wear my colors like a badge
Because there's nothing wrong
Just being me.

I am a rainbow.


In the shadows of a cafe, 
She sits alone.
Her only company
Is the coffee
But even it is afraid to speak.

Engaged in her own shadows,
She fades from the world around her.
She forget who she is;
Then, everyone forgets her.
She and the world are ghosts to one another.

She drowns in her own faults
Her mistakes,
For she forgot,
And she never told herself
That she was beautiful.
But now,
She will never forget
That she is beautiful
In every way.