Hip Hip Hooray,

Here comes the best story ever!

We all will meet, we all will write,

Once we get together!

Some are typing, some are writing,

but some of us are blocked

Twirling pencils in their hand,

trying to unlock the fog.

Some stories are so funny,

and some of them are not.

and some of them are scary,

we like all of them a lot!

We wake the city up

by sharing all the news

we even write the music

and that includes the blues!

There are so many people in here but not enough room,

there is an empty trash can too, but no trash bags or a broom.

Someone put their coke cans in the sink

and now the small room begins to stink.

I hear an awful song in my head that appears to be stuck on repeat

and I'll be damned- someone just turned up the heat!

It's hot and humid and spiders are crawling up the wall

I do not like this room so much, I'm not fond of it at all.

There are bingo numbers never called and cake that's never made

As I come to realize this, my smile begins to fade.

Sitting next to a talkative Know-it-all

I get what I believe is a spam robo call-

All of this has happened before my day even begins,

I cannot help but wonder what fresh hell I'm in.

Do you remember when we used to sleep on the trampoline?

When we'd fall over laughing, bruising ourselves on the gravel of our driveways

Sideways, crashing down

I can hardly remember those days anymore

I only remember the soreness of my limbs and tree bark against my skin while I climbed

The path we carved in the woods to a place we considered sacred and holy

The pain we explained to each other in a tiny room without light

The flowers we exchanged in hopeful dreams of retaliation

The tears in your eyes when you said you were leaving

The breath we shared for three seconds

The time it took to get up

The space between us

The sadness

The pain.

I don't know about you

But I can hardly remember those days anymore

I hide them. Under a sleeve or skirt.

Scratches that I have earned over years.

They burn and bleed.

They pull and tear.

I spend extra time every day trying to hide.

I don't want to show my bruises and scars.

Most people show them in pride of the battles they've won.

Yet I don't, I'm shy.

A scar down my heart. A bruise that I've brandished.

I trust nothing, it turns into hurt.

My face blushes when I look for a second to long.

Scared to meet other eyes that bore.

Maybe they wonder whats underneath the long robes.

Sometimes I wonder to. Only for a second.

They told me when I was young that I'm ugly.

One said that only scars could ruin the only beauty I have left.

So they hide. Under fabric, under a mask, under make up.

It's all a fake reality. One meant to hide the pain.

To hide the tears behind a smile.

But it never quite reaches the eyes.

You would know its fake if you look closer.

Only problem is, nobody does.

Nobody confronts the truth. They don't look at details.

They marvel at beauty as a whole.

Not beauty in one place.

I never knew, but that's why I'm ugly.

They never cared to look at tiny details.

Only the whole picture at once.

If they had looked at details they would have noticed.

My thick lashes, the way my lips curve in a smile.

He said that the curl at the end of my hair was beautiful.

He said that my eyes were enhancing.

He said never to fear the scars.

They just show that you survived, they show the battles.

A scar shows that you beat what tried to kill you.

So world, here are my brandished scars. And there meant for you to see.

I'm not hiding anymore, nothing is going behind the scenes.

Real beauty comes from what is there. Not what you are putting up.

Not the make up reality that you have.

You don't need to wonder what 's underneath now. Because here it is.

Choose a path. If wrong it's okay.

It'll meet up to the true path again.

If I doesn't somebody you love will shove you to it.

Whether there are brambles or thickets. They help you through.

You may be discoursed but you'll get back.

Every time you fall over somebody's going to help.

Only if they don't have other motives.

People who love you help you.

So when you get discoursed you get two things out of it.

You find who loves you, and who doesn't.

Then you find the right path.

They wished to get rid of pain. They talk about true love though. Did they never think of the travel to make it there? Did they forget about the travel after one is gone. If you don't feel emptiness and pain when they leave, was it really true? If you feel whole before they came is there really any more room for a loved one? If there isn't painful struggles while they are still here are you sure you wont leave them? Part of true love is pain. If there is no empty space or void full of pain before you meet them there is no love. If there are no struggles how do you know if they would come back to you? It's the part of the process. What matters is when you leave them only to come back. That's when they know you love them. If there is no pain when they leave was there really any room in you're heart for them when they were still here? Is you're pride to big to let any body in? When there is true love you will hurt and morn when they're gone. Only because they were a part of you. And now they're missing. So, don't try to take pain out of the equation. Add it. Then you know true love, because it's so beautiful that it hurts. No love comes without pain.

My eyes divert from what's in front of me.

Years of offering what I want to others takes it's toll.

My cheeks turn red.

I've never wanted something so bad.

That's why I turn away.

I know it will hurt some how.

After time if something goes wrong it will burn.

Not wanting to get hurt is the way I've lived.

Never reckless and uncontrollable.

But those people stop caring after awhile.

They've got better coping skills than me.

My shield and armor are weaker.

And so here I stand, uncertain.

What food would I ever be? Well, I'm a cold person. . . I don't need to elaborate. And I can be sweet at the same time if you give me time. I come in many flavors. Crazy, funny, mean, nice, and mostly weird and goofy. So, I think I'll settle for ice cream. If you give it time it will warm up from an icy stage, and it comes in different flavors. Only difference is you put ice cream in the freezer. Yet I'll put you in the freezer if you try anything.

My dad uses you all the time.

He refuses to lose you.

If he spends a hour without you he's frantic.

Screw you Phillip head.

Day and night my dad needs you.

Screw you and all of your Phillip friends.

I hope one day, dad can live without you.

But now- damn it. Your missing.

The root of this hate.

A stolen spade, a ace.

I've waited till this moment came.

I used the water to grow the seed of hate.

Now I dig the hole, I let it grow.

I pick a day to kill.

I hit it with a hoe at the back of the head.

People flowering your head stone.

I guess the fruit is poisonous.