Ill-Conceived

Why is it that my plans are so ill-conceived

That my hair is standing on end

From all the mistakes that I've made

For the thoughts of harm

The people I've hurt

Though physically they are standing fine

Are made to last

Those bruises that show up on my face

From all the teasing

And bullying

I've had to go through

For all the times that you made me doubt myself

And all the times that you pushed me down

Only for ME

To do the utmost important thing to do

Which is getting up once more

To do the things that I love

To love things with all my heart

I think that once you try to see the other side of the moon

Then you will understand the one thing that life doesn’t get

The only thing that will make mistakes

Is you

Valhalla

Try as we might,

Try as we may.

Believe as we see,

And do as we dream.

Try to make this world,

Better than a poem,

Strung together with words,

Made by a high schooler.

With words from their own self,

Be with the wind,

Don’t fight it.

And imagine the place that,

Those have fought over,

Over the lands of Valhalla.

The seas,

The currents,

The Breeze,

Our own world is falling,

Help pick it up,

Before it is too late….

Suffocated Hearts

Try not to take this personally,

But all I see,

And all I hear,

Is the sounds of you and your perilous hounds.

Making us all cry,

Out the things that you’d never hear,

Of the things that we’d never be

Continually being suffocating.

Disaster is striking in the hearts that have shattered.

That have screamed out their final goodbyes,

Their sorrows,

Their pain,

Their loneliness,

This is the last time that I shall have heard of you,

But you continually hunt me down to shatter me too,

Me and my heart are having too much we might break,

As we lay to rest down in this downcast street.

Untitled

Understanding the not understood,

And taking in what flight can become,

The raw nature of not knowing and,

Taking in that leap of faith that has nothing left .

The trees sway,

And the breeze takes way.

And the water trickles down the slope beyond the eye can see,

As I stand in the wind at the top of the bluff,

Now understanding the not understood.

Tired

I’m tired.

Oh so tired.

That’s the thing though,

Is that the only thing that I ever say to people,

Is the fact of how tired I am.

And what that means to me,

Isn’t that sort of depressing?

How pathetic am I?

The only thing that I can think of to say is my own feelings.

Not taking into consideration of what others think,

Or feel,

Or say.

It’s like this way I don't have to feel.

Just stay away.

And be afraid.

Of the light of day.

And how it shines in my eyes.

And makes me blinded by the light,

Just letting it take me away,

To better days.

War Bodies

She wears it well,

The tunic that her mother and I gave her on her 15th birthday,

She was so majestic.

So heavenly.

I guess that suits her,

An Angel,

My sweet,

Loving,

Beautiful,

Angel.

My daughter,

Sweet Fereshteh.

Who lies in this pitiful soil,

Her hair which was as black as night,

Her eyes as blue as the daytime sky,

She was a beauty.

And now her skin is pale,

Her eyes have lost their shine.

Her voice no more,

The war has gotten her.

My sweet angel,

My sweet girl,

She is lost to me.

But I will weep no more,

For this beautiful,

Young,

Daughter of mine,

Fereshteh will be with Allah forever more.

Floor

Most junkies cripple over and fall to the floor,

Their domain should be on the floor,

But don't discriminate because,

One day,

We will be laid to rest,

In the floor.