A Little Obsessed Stone Angel

Next to the whispering fountain
Weeping, frozen , behind the bush
Stands a poison angel.
Silent as it takes your time away.
Made of
Stone,
Never befriended,
Always hated,
Untrusted.

Don't
Blink.

untitled- by Amelia

The teacher said
Write a poem,
And if it comes out of you
It will be true

A poem's a story
That much I know.
Can you write a story
When you can barely see the page?

It's hard for me
to write poetry,
Because instead of my words,
I see
What the page could be.

It could be music
flowing from a lone
saxophone
drifting away in
crisp,
night,
air.

It could be
swirling, twirling colors,
flying off a
beautiful picture.

It could be
to the lone lovers crush,
all thoughts
spilled out on a page.

It could be
anything,
and words not mine
crush out
my own.

So I'm sorry, Mr. Teacher
I just cannot write
Any poem that's really  mine
Ever.
Let alone
Tonight.

Ode to My Pencil- By Amelia

Thank you, pink eraser
That saves me
From
My mistakes

Thank you, lead
That gives me voice
So in a quiet place
I still have words

Thank you both
For pairing up
For creating
Poetry,
Novels,
Life.

Thank you
For being strong
And not breaking
And
Thank you
For not being tough
And ripping paper

Thank you
For
Letting yourself
Be cramped in my purse
Without complaint

Thank you, closest friend
For letting
Me.
Be.
Me.

my brave heart

there is something so brave inside me. in my heart, i can feel the beating of my soul. something that wants out. wants to scream and yell and jump and run and dance. there is something so beautiful in my heart that grows at the sound of your voice- rejoices in the touch of your hand. there are thoughts swirling in my head, thoughts that need to come out before they spill out- over flowing and flooding my soul. the glorious clouds are gathering, the silver drops of freedom are falling. the deluge is coming. i will let it fall on my face, feel it on my soul. the braveness is there beating down.

There...

There is nothing heaped upon us that we can't handle. There is nothing to fear but fear itself. There is someone out there for every one. There are two sides to every coin. There is a reason for all things.

I have learned these sayings; tried to live by them.
But, I am afraid of more than fear. I feel that many things I can't handle are still there, needing my attention. I don't care what the other side of the coin looks like; if it looks better than mine I want it, and if mine is better- you suck. There's someone out there for me- and he's terrified. The reason for all things is to either piss me off or make me happy.

There- I've said it. There.