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oh to be a sore loser.

Oh, to be a sore loser.

Look out to the crowd, you see a million people,

Double that.

Heart racing, just like you know it would,

Ba boom ba boom ba boom.

And you know you’re going to be first,

your predictions on who’s going to win is dead on, kinda.

You stand in front of the people,

Nerves got the best of you.

You see a crinkle at your paper and you want to smooth it over.

It’s time to speak.

“His palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy
There's vomit on his sweater already, mom's spaghetti
He's nervous, but on the surface he looks calm and ready
To drop bombs, but he keeps on forgetting
What he wrote down, the whole crowd goes so loud
He opens his mouth, but the words won't come out
He's choking how, everybody's joking now
The clock's run out, time's up over, bloah!
Snap back to reality, oh there goes gravity
Oh, there goes Rabbit, he choked
He's so mad, but he won't give up that
Easy, no”

This whole rap goes through your head like a bullet.

You choke on your first letter,

Coughing out each word after word

And by the time you know it,

you had a coughing fit that was you whole poem

yaknow, the next one isn’t so bad either.

And you think it’s going to be alright,

But then, SMACK!

What the hell was that?

I messed up. Shit.

But you go on because that’s all you know what you have to do,

So you stand there, done.

The host says “Well, michelle, you did a remarkable job, how do you think you did?”

I want to say,

I did a horrible job and run of stage in a fit of tears.

I look over with a shy smile and say I was nervous, but I did alright.

And that when I hear it,

When words pierce my ears,

Not like a piercing gun,

But an arrow that tunnels through the canals

And stops my world.

“Wow, she sucked.”

I can’t hear what the judges say,

The tears a fighting against me and I smile graciously and take a seat.

First is the worst second is the best,

And it’s true,

He rocked that stage,

But, before he did that,

He rubbed my back telling me that ,

That person probably didn’t know what poetry was.

Those poems came from my heart,

And I guess that’s what hurts more.

I tried to pay attention,

His voice resonating in my ears,

But all I hear is you suck,

You suck, you suck, you suck.

And coming from me,

all the things that I went through,

and all the things that I somehow managed to gain back,

my confidence was pulled out infront of me,

so, I want to apologize to him, saying that he was the best,

and that girl, that petty girl

thank you for being my first critic,

thank you for unintentionally telling me that I have more work for improvement.

I am a writer, and writing will grow and flourish,

And there will be critics,

And you my first critic,

While I sat there on stage, trying not to cry,

I thank you.

Cast In Stone

And after that night I knew there was no looking back,

So I sealed eyes shut knowing I’d be cast in stone,

The sun peaked over the cold night as dawn arrived,

I heard your footsteps this morning as you got up for work.

The fan muffled the yawn that escaped my mouth.

The glint off the mirror stings my eyes.

The girl in the mirror has discolored bags under her lashes,

Hoping that she will at least get a few hours of sleep.

The covers shield the sun breaking across the sky.

Under the covers her body gets warm,

Sticking out a limb to capture the cold morning air.

The snore in the bed over breaks as the realm of sleep is left.

The room is shared, but the sleep is not equal.

An alarm clock sings over and over:

“Wake me up before you go, go.”

Six o’clock in the morning with weary eyes from crying.

Disguised under sheets to hide from the waking,

Frozen like a stone laying in a fake sleep formation,

I sealed my eyes shut letting sleep take over.

Let me be Blunt

We lie to each other so much that in nothing we trust

The worst is that we even lie to ourselves

I promise you that I say all of this in honesty

We, my friend, are all judgmental

Some people keep an open mind about each others lives and hardships

But there are the people who sit there in scorn, unable to relate

Even the people who are open minded will sit there and judge

Thinking how they would take the path differently

I’m speaking the truth when I say that we are all hypocrites

We can all lie and say we don’t judge

But somehow the snide criticism pop up in our heads

It takes a true person to come out and say it

This shows that even if it is blunt, there is always a helping hand

But if we are all hypocrites when it comes to judgment

Who is to say that we are not honest?

And if we are not honest then whom can we trust?

Drop out kid

I can't take anything anymore. I'm tired of making people happy. I just wish everything could stop. I'm sick of all the judgmental faces and the paranoia. It should have ended when i was supposed to.

wallflower

My insecurities will get the best of me and i seem to be always over my head. Don't you think it's funny how you'd think after a life changing opportunity like mine I'd be able to change? Be more outgoing. Be more friendly. Be more out spoken. Then i take one look at all the faces in front of me and i know, they are all silently judging me. Whether it be bad or good, i wish that all people were accepting like i was, to be honest and open minded about people's life styles and ethnicity. Is it weird for me to feel left out? or that i just don't know how to connect to anyone anymore? i feel like that i really try but i can't find the words to find some common ground. Perhaps I've made myself more into a wallflower.
Not only that, I'm really stressed out. i forgot the hustle and bustle of being in high school. I forgot all the drama. I've seen more insensitivity in the past two weeks than I've seen in my whole high school career. Perhaps i was just blind.

The Silence

The Bones creak like bamboo in the wind

Age is what became of this man

He’s standing outside in the harsh winter of December,

His joints are ruined with arthritis and his feet ache with gout

And even at old age he takes in what life has to offer

Because he knows when it’s his time, he has no choice but to go

He enjoys the melancholy of his life

It reminds him that even in happiness there is pain

He stands in front of the grave with roses in hand and says

“It’s been two years since you’ve passed.”

Although she can’t hear him, the silence is some what comforting

He tries to find words to say

Words are skinned and numbed by too many bricks

He doesn’t mind the loneliness because he knows his heart was only for her

When he mumbles under the wind those three words;

He knows the intensity of what they mean,

Even if it falls short of what he really wants to say

He doesn’t think his love for his wife will ever measure up to the years they spent

Because he believes the priest was wrong and death doesn’t part them,

And life is only temporary

And when he places the rose on the base of the grave

He knows its time to go home,

And return to the same house where they both once lived;

To lie in bed on the right side because she always took the left,

And sleep with comfort that she was there once