Ethan

I feel the most alone when I'm with the world.

Ethan loved the world.
Because it was bigger than all of us, and it made him feel small.
I guess that's the thing about Ethan: he enjoys being small.

Ethan...Ethan was diffrent.

You would'n tell by looking at him though.

He looked like a fresh breathe of air that has been inside the smile of someone important.

Ethan wasn't important.... not to me at least.
But Ehthan was....

Well I guess Ethan just was.

He was the kid that walked in the bike lane,
and the spent more time in the walls than in his own house.

The thing about Ethan is...
Is that there are so many things about him.

And their tiny and descreet.
I mean, It's not only backwards but its upside down.

He has more layers than an onion,
but people would bit eanyway....because they could.

Ethan peeled like skin to them....
but he always maintained a smile...
The smile of someone important that had oxygen inside of them that was from no one.

Ethan liked being a no one.

You see that painting?
That's Ethan.

If you look really closely you can see him in the pastels, the strokes...

Everyone,
everyday
walks by that mural and never looks at it.
Because it's diffrent.

Ethan was diffrent.....


I don't think they liked that very much.



<sub>she was the girl that sat in the far back corner of the classroom that everyone thought was bi-polar. Only, she wasn't, she was only trying on personalities like clothes in a department store to see which ones fit best.

[in the end, she bought the clothes that her classmates liked the most because it seemed to her it was better to be loved by others, than it was to love herself. she never really knew how to love herself anyways, and by senior year in high school, it was too late to start trying]

eventually, she couldn't tell which her was the real one and she ended up hating all of them, but she was never able to throw them out and go shopping again, for fear that none of the stores would have her size and she wouldn't be able to remember which style she liked more anyways.

[she thinks that maybe, one day, she'll go to the mall on black friday, even though she missed it this year, because she was scared that all the skirts would be gone before she even got to the highway. In reality, she never even got past the driveway]

one day, she says she's going to look in the mirror and see herself

[but the mirror cracked before she could even open her eyes again]</sub>

Cracked

by ~SugarCoveredDreams



The Ghosts Of You.

Draino is bitter.

But it's lips taste so much better
than the ghost of you.

I loathe every second of distance between our hands.

Remember that day

When we poured our hearts out onto the sleeves of our enemies

And never said a word?

Or the day when....there was just day.

No symbolism in the words

"I love you"

"Don't go"

Please don't go.

I love you more than I'm supposed to,

And I'm not okay with that.

I just

I miss the morning smile that created spring

And the lost eyelash I find on my pillow as a little reminder that

Everything falls like gravity

But hits hard like a brick

And loves like we do.

Sometimes....

Sometimes I believe I can kill people with all the hate I have burried inside me,

But I never do because hate passes.

Like everything passes by in the wind, change colors to form

the rainbow.

I saw you in the rainbow today....

And I missed you.

I miss every day

Every hour

Every second where I am left with the ghost of you.

Us.

And I think...

Why have I let myself get to this point where

The mirror won't even show a reflection....

Disappointing.

SILENCE

Our silence is their greatest power.
Our voice is our greatest strength.
To listen is the greatest support.
To discuss is the greatest step,
Towards progress.

Ask and you shall recieve

You can't make them love you,
but we can make them hear.

It's not that they don't love you,
it's just that their deaf.

And it's not that I don't hear you,
it's just that I have nothing to say in return.

They have so much to say,
and each word so perfectly piosoness,
My words have no meaning
compaired to their sentances.

I'm always hear for you,
as they visit once every sun rise

But they make the sun rise,
And I can't be here forever.

I can hold your hand until it's over,
but I can't help it end quicker.

I can't pretend that i'm not real,
but you can ask me to be.

Ask and you shall recieve,
just don't ask them to love you.

They already do.

Dead Flowers

I keep dead flowers
In my window in hopes that
They're just pretending.

It Felt Good To Be A Liar

They called her a whore because she danced naked in the rain.
Oh how I long to be that shallow girl, the one who never
Gave a single fuck.
I've kept a straight head, looked down all my life
But I've got a secret. I know what the stars look like when they cry.

The look like my reflection in the puddle
that the supposed whore dances in.
Mucking up the lies
of someone perfect.
Who is despratly trying to mess up
to remind herlsef that she is in fact, human.

She used to write secrets on bathroom walls
Kohl eyeliner scrawled on the stalls
Singing secrets to strangers,
Weeping on the sidewalk.
She's a thousand words
Ugly parts that make up
And ugly whole
Or, at least,
that's what society shoves down her throat
But she can't throw this food up

Let's make a deal
That I will love you
Longer than you'll ever love me

So that way I can become you
and you can desipate into the shadow of something you've never wanted to be
And I can be your life  support
And you can be the penicilin
And we can play pretned until the
stars stop weeping
and the rain stops
but we continue to dance because
we want to.

Class, turn to page thirty seven
Here you have an example of a girl
Fighting for her life,
Clutching on to any plastic beliefs that she can.

(Stolen Poetry Peice by Hayley, from http://daydreamerinsomniac.deviantart.com/ )

Beyond The Sky There Is Love

Everyone has a story.
And it is always a story told by the sky.
Because the sky is there avery day.
And the sky is different every day.
And the sky tells our story.
Tells our story to the whole world.
Because the world is the beggining
of every story
and the end is only a minor detail
in the fable we weave.

This? Is only a chapter in our lives
A fraction of a sentance.
Because beyond the sky?
Is something more.
Something bigger than this stroy,
Bigger than every story.

Maybe it's love.

OIr maybe, it's just more sky.

These Words Are A Loaded Bullet. And I'm Aiming For Your Head.

These words are a loaded bullet

Set in motion

Breaking the sound waves

Aimed in the sights

Pointing directly into your mouth

Because if you heard half of the shit

That comes out of your mouth

You would pull the trigger too

You

You are drowning in your

Crooked philosophy

Drowning just to see

The pretty colors as you

Look up from the bottom

Of the ocean

To see the glimmering

Sun peaking out from under

The armpits of this universe

These words?

These words are a blanket

Suffocating us

Smothering us with hatred for this

This loving feeling I have for you

I want to cradle you into my

Gut and give you everything that you lack

But even the sun can't give someone

Necessity

Want

Drive

Desire

Love.

Everything comes down to love

Because no one ever has it

Except the people you don't know

And never will meet.

Words

Words are the only thing that really

Have love

Words are the epitome

Of our existence

And I don't know if

I'm going crazy or

If I’m just in love

Because I'm drowning in these words

And if you don't

Shut up for once in your god damn life

And kiss me now

I swear to whatever god you worship

I will pull that trigger

With the three bullets called

I Love You.

The House of The Rising Sun

Paper Cranes
Carry prayers
To the rising sun.

The house was renamed,
some time a few years back,
now the setting moon replaces
everything she once new.

Enter the doorway,
she tiptoes on the feathers
of the shattered clouds,
and heads for the attic.

Finding the noose, she wears as a neclace,
and the flaming candle that never burned out.

She tosses in her sleep,
seeing this attic,
hiding away from the rest of the world
in the house of the rising sun.

The rising sun doesn't rise anymore,
So to her, it's just a house.

The neclace she bares reminds her of
her humilty,
and the flames remind her of her spit fire.

The house, the house,
she can never burn it down.

She hung the noose in the attic, and set the candle
underneath.

Because even the humble will eventually burn to the ground.

And finally, she can walk away untouched.
And the sun rises once again,
but to her it is still
Nothing but a house.

Drowning Lessons

You have enough happiness in you to fill an ocean,
but you have enough sadness in you to sail it.

The only diffrence between happy and sad
is the fractures of creases that seperate skin from fingerprints.
But somewhere between happy and sad is numb.
You say you want to be nutraul, but as soon as you get there you're trying to get out.

Becasue in reality:
All it is
is drowning.

Drowning is love
poring into your lungs.
Sufficating you sweetly
that you don't mind the black sharp pains.

Drowning is the only way to get to atlantis,
Drowning is the only way to get into David Hasseloff's arms.

But drowning is also the only way to get a fear of water.
Drowning in the only way to get a fear of death.
A respect of life.

You only know the doggy paddle because
everyone calls you a bitch.

So why not take a trip
to the bottom of the lake?
Rivers run through your veins
deeper than the nile's night.
Deeper than any word
ever said
to anyone
ever.

Imagination Hurts

The Beauty in a Raindrop

Some people feel rain.
Other's just get wet.

I want to wake up with the rain.
As it kisses my cheeks
I fluster my eyes and awake to open skies
musty and dark
but beautiful.

There is beauty underneath.
There is always beauty underneath.

The rain washes away everything,
cool, cold and kind.

I can leave my secrets in the puddles
and the clouds will evaporate my anger
and I too, can be a cloud.

Because there is beauty on the surface too.

Whoever said happiness is like sunshine,
Has obviously never danced in the rain.

This portrait may look like the rain
trickles like my tears.
But if you were to zoom in:
You would see my smile.