Never Gave In
I could I say I love you but it'd be a lie,
I could say that dress you're wearing is pretty but it'd be a lie,
I could say that life is fair and that you'd be alright but that'd be a lie,
I could say that I really care what you think but that'd be a lie,
I could say that I give a damn about what grade you give but that'd be a lie.
There is so much more to do in this world,
Why should I change my expectations to match yours?
Why should I tell you something that you expect to hear but it is a lie?
Don't you want to hear the honest truth?
I prefer silence to the lies spewing out of your mouth.
The world expects me to match step in step, hand in hand.
When I don't give a damn about what they say or do about me.
Why should I match anyone's expectations but my own?
What does it give me from your expectations that are empty dreams and hopes?
That one white lie to reassure you cost my own honesty.
I am not willing to give it up for your happiness.
I won't tell a lie for your happiness.
I won't tell a lie for your sanity.
I won't tell a lie even if it means taking the hard path.
I won't bend my ways just for the sake of a false fallacy, for a moment's peace.
I've done that road and I've seen that and it has far more consquences than one fast quick pleasure of a smile.
I won't do that, I won't do it not for your happiness.
I won't do it even when I find myself in a lonely world because I'll still have me.
I may be standing here with wind howling in my ears.
But I can say one thing you can't.
I never gave in.
There is something about the way I see,
There is something about the way the world seems to lean in,
The way I've been hurt and want to flee,
There is something about the way the walls close in,
There is something about the way I can smile,
The way others seem not to notice and look away,
There is something about the way I can dance,
I can speak so clearly and be heard,
Yet at other moments seem so deathly silent.
There are words unspoken in my mind.
My mouth wanting to move, my hands trembling at my sides.
Useless, immobile, frozen from something,
Split in two, two people that I can't recognize.
There is that one who can speak with the utmost ease,
Who makes people think they're close to her,
Enjoys life with a breeze,
Dances without a care and speaks up,
She has a snark to her bite,
And a darkness in her eyes she leaves unseen,
Then there is the one in the corner,
Silent and disappears into the walls,
She watches and observes,
She sees everything from one corner to the next,
People barely notice if something is wrong,
There is the outgoing one who tries to "fix" her.
But she doesn't want to be fixed.
She is fine in her silence.
But there is something about those two together,
Coming together to form one.
Pieces interlocking, becoming stronger,
No longer one smiling person who can dance.
Then be quiet in a corner and watch observantly.
Now she is the person who makes sharp remarks,
Yet keeps people where she wants them and uses her observations.
Now she is the one who displays who she is proudly,
A Star of David dangling from her neck.
Reflecting who she is and where she is from,
She smiles, not in a corner, locked away.
And at last, she is at peace.
For she is me,
And I am she.
"Something I've Done"
I've to flee, I've got to escape this pounding my head.
The beats are drumming, the time is running short.
I have to run with my foot one step after the other.
I can't run fast enough and it gets closer.
The drumming pounds and explodes.
I failed, I didn't get away. It has come upon me.
The thunder strikes, it draws too close,
My feet keep moving but it doesn't make a difference,
It comes nearer and it chokes me, holds me down,
Holds me back while I struggle to escape.
That blackness overcomes,
Things I don't want to see haunting my eyes,
There is a melancholy in them, something unseen,
A truth that I've been hiding from, buried deep,
Somewhere that I couldn't see because my mind wouldn't let me,
It overwhelms and my mind shuts down, it can't handle this,
My feet keep running as my mind carries away,
My feet pounding, my mind slowly throbbing,
It ebbs away and my feet run,
And I find myself somewhere,
And I ponder how I got here,
Wondering what I had done.
"Is There A Purpose?"
They say there is a story to life.
A greater meaning and purpose for us all.
That those who succeed are meant to,
And those who fail are meant for different paths.
There is the one guy who always fails,
There is the other person blessed with memorization.
But that skill to memorize, to read,
Does that make him better than the person struggling?
He does it with ease, without a care.
Another person spends hours,
Trying to keep up, yearning for the easy going.
Can they ever catch up?
Is it even worth it to try?
For the other person doesn't even try,
They have it all, the things that person wants,
And they don't even realize how lucky they are.
How easy life will be for them,
While the other person is struggling as a second class,
Never destined to have first place.
My shoes are spilling out over the floor,
I have eight pairs, one sandals and sneakers,
There is the mixed infant's baby shoe,
That is not mine, why is there?
It is pink, little, everything I abhor.
Innocence radiating out of that little shoe.
I toss it against the wall and watch the plastic resound,
The echo of the falling weight against the wall,
That little piece from memories that I wish would disappear.
Always hated pink or so I thought,
But that little shoe calls me out and says I am lying.
The hot pink of that shoe,
Radiating next to my dirtied sandals.
My worn out sneakers that are light blue.
My hot pink sneakers resting in the back of my closet,
In their top shape showing they've never been worn and hated,
The innocence of that shoe echoes at me,
I turn away, hating it, hating the mocking memories,
Hating what it represents among the splattered shoes,
For it represents what I try to hide, what I will never be.
That color I hate it and I hate that little shoe,
Showing that I didn't always hate pink.
I turn my back on it and bury it within my other shoes.
Letting the memory fade away, letting myself forget,
I always hated pink and always will,
Can't let myself remember why I hate it,
What it represents to me, the child's laughter,
The joys and prettiness, the normalness...
No I hate the color of pink and that shoe shall be forgotten in the pile.
Forever shall remain the good pink shoes at the back of my closet,
Pink banished away, representing that side of life to be forgotten,
Never to achieved, never to be that girl who wears high heels,
Never to be the one who wants to reach that level.
No I hate pink and always will.
"A Story To Be Told"
There is a story waiting to be told they say,
They say that you have so much potential.
So much yet to achieve as if you haven't done enough,
They say it is waiting unfurl, it is just there beneath the surface,
What does that say? That story yet untold?
But don't they see those lines that have been written?
The lines that are foretold in bright colors,
Beautifully written in a flowing script,
It never ends and it is always being added to,
How is my story untold?
When it is clearly before them written,
In the process of being told,
Never ending and always being added to, adjusted,
New twists, plots and beauty added every single day,
So how can they say we haven't reached our full potential?
That our story is yet unwritten?
The lines say otherwise,
The pen constantly moving,
The ink laying across the pen drying,
No, our potential is being reached every single moment,
They're wrong, the story is not yet untold,
It is being told in every single action and every single word,
We have reached it and are reaching it,
We just haven't let them read the story yet,
The ending isn't here, so they don't know that our plot is here,
Our potential is already reached.
The story is never told, it is always a work in progress and always will be until that last drying ink pen dies out with a final breath.
"A Place To Be"
It is a whirling world of things we can't understand.,
A mystery beyond what everyone wishes,
A light casual brushing barely reaches the surface,
A glance in someone's eyes hardly tells a truth,
A guarded tint,
A giggling laughter,
A sneer that reaches too far,
A smile that seems pasted,
Eyes that glisten in the darkness,
In the soul behind all of that,
What really lies there?
How much can you trust without a knife?
Those eyes darting back and forth?
Wearing your heart on sleeve with scars,
Or hidden so deep it can't be found,
What is the choice to make,
To trust or not to be?
To enjoy life or not?
Can we trust without hurting?
Is life safe with hurting?
Is there a balance between guarded eyes,
Or is there truly no other way than wandering life,
Is the only way to protect to dart one's eyes
And only hope the road leads to safety?