I Have A Secret,

Boxed up with a bow, gift beautiful, secure wrapped in soft cloth, feeling happy and sure. Now the tape is torn,not well kept together cut open with holes, tossed like a weak feather.  The gift is shattered, but remains in that box damaged, unworthy, weighed down by giant rocks.  Rocks that dent the shape, that was rebuilt so well admired gently, ringing praises like a bell.  Fixed way too quickly, ripped apart in pieces scattered everywhere, the burden increases. Swept up in one scoop, little noise to the ears. Swept up in one day, a gift wrapped for eight years. -Belle Rose

Mirror I hate you, for making every day hell. Close your mouth, this will not be show and tell.  Hold it in, do not let anyone know.  Hide it well, keep your insecure face low.  Swallow glass, that cuts your heart in pieces.  Smile wide, as all your pain releases,  somewhere safe, but don't give it away, even if it is a growing bouquet.  Stay sane, breathe, and just let it all go. Stop crying, or you will never bestow,  a smile, a happy life by your side. A story, about a beautiful bride.  Please learn, I hope this is crystal clear. I hate you.  Your reflection is gone, dear. 

Photo from:  AuthenticGrowth.com Words talked over, my voice inside my head Eyes controlled me, my skin burned, cut, and dead Anxiety, told me the biggest lies Notebook pages, soaked up all my loud cries Every mistake, piled up on my chest Heart beat, fast pace, impossible to rest The attention, self-esteem took hold of It hurts to unwrap, what a gift is self-love. 

Medicated Will I really feel better, if I swallow this pill? Handle all the emotions, that I can't handle still.  Justifying my sadness, and living with pressure. Having a torture free mind, would that be a cure? Would my words of struggle leave me? Would my voice be the same? The one that defends others, the one that ends self-blame.  Emotions felt normally, would lack inspiration. These emotions are mine, felt without medication.  I'll take away the burden, blind you from my coping.  Should I not feel better? Hey, who is this helping? I don't want you to suffer, I want you to feel free.  Who deserves to feel better? Surely, not me. 

Pencils Down The paper is in front of me, problem number one, It's the easy one.  I rush through it, because I know all the answers. But I never hear the right answer, because I am too busy saying "I am right". So then I give up and I move on, but this problem has more steps, more thinking,  and my mind is still on the first problem and I keep adding more mistakes... more problems. So I slow down, try to understand all the problems, try to solve it in my head, but now there are too many problems, and I don't know where to start. Are  the edges of the page getting sharp? Are the lines on the page sticking to my skin, the skin covered in panic, the skin covered in tears. I can't keep track of which problem I am on, I'm still on the first one,  and I can't stop looking at it. I'm avoiding everything else on this page, "My answers are stupid!" I start to erase, and rewrite what I thin...

Bullet  The sky is carrying me, I am comfortably flying. Everything is still, no wind, calm. I smile to myself, and say, "I'm safe." I continue on my journey, I continue being loved. Then the winds begin to pick up, it's all my fault. I got too comfortable, I lost control of my actions. My vision is blurred, from rain, my own tears. I barely dodge every bullet, I dive and  make sharp turns. I flip and soar...  But the very last bullet kills me. -Belle Rose

Dear Washington, You consumed my joy yet you also added smile You stole my proof-- Proof that there is such thing as fate, that there is such thing as defeating one's fears, and meeting your wish, on the road to Damascus. Take care of my joy, my wish Take care of my Friend