EdisCole17

my body is my home. you think i'd respect it, love it, stroke it's walls and whisper into its soul: your walls are beautiful your windows are beautiful and everything inside is beautiful, too instead i slashed through the wallpaper threw black curtains over the windows shattered vases and lacquered staircases, fighting a war with the shadows as the sun set over the horizon and my electricity flickered out. i took a hammer and tore through everything emptying my home and letting everything everything that made my home a wonderful place to live in fade away it's no wonder i began to long for a different house a way out the door peering out

what is it? what is it? what's that which we hear— the crystallized sound of bells that we fear; the blue memories of light we have lost, away with the wind and away with the frost. speak to me, voice, and tell me of day: craft stories of iron that never will fray. give me your strength and give me your fight, and angels will guard me through deep morning's light. so we shall go then, red lips and green eyes: down under the grand old westernly skies; where dreams are then crafted and set free to soar, so please do come knocking upon my white door. (but tread lightly old man, for you know better than most: it is better to die than to

i painted careful designs on the outside of my glass heart— the fatal flaw being, of course, that you could see right through me. i suppose you didn't want the fragile girl, the one who was romantic and sad and everything you weren't. you said something along the lines of, "oh god, you're not becoming a sad girl, are you?" because everyone knows sad girls are the worst kind of girls to break. and everyone knows sad boys are the worst kind of boys to love. but my glass heart, delicate lungs and empty stomach weren't right for you. you're the boy that sleeps on the floor because he hates his bed; the boy who cries into his pillow a

Crimson red splashing angrily about my eyes Feeling a bomb go off in my vision I am seeing red. Take me as you find me Covered in scars My mind forever wandering the vague impression of time. I am lost to all but you. The Blades of Faith, spinning angrily about my shoulders A temperamental thing, the angry circles it turns. It taunts me, tempting me with bloodlust. My mind is raging out of control My heart is burdened with compunction I am torn to my intuition. I cannot hope to be cognizant with the affects. Of war. Of life. Of the burden I’ve chosen. Help me to know my judgment is yours. Do I breathe the way you desire? For t

i sat at a table, kicking my backpack at my feet, not listening to the conversation but the stained walls of my mind. (i don’t want to go home and i don’t want to leave, but my lungs are so nostalgic for the warm summer breeze) airports are always full of sadness and excitement. this one was stuffed with words i didn’t understand, beautiful accents, and miscommunication– because translation is a trickster and people don’t always say what they mean. her name was edith. she was grandmotherly, with eyes that were still alive even though time (that fickle beast) had taken quick movements and youth away from her an

the worst idea you ever had was admitting to me that you valued my opinion above your own (this means that every time i complain about my weight, the size of my thighs and stomach, my grades, you believe that i will not love you unless you meet my own expectations). this also means that if you ever try to do something i don't want you to do, i know the perfect things to say in order to break you; i know that you will bend and snap to my every word. [you're too afraid to lose my so-called "friendship". really, it's just blackmail.]

nobody even knows what a black hole looks like because when light tries to illuminate it the darkness swallows everything. (and when i was little i read an encyclopedia about science and space and i learned that there might even be a black hole in the center of our galaxy. a thousand burning suns swirl around the darkness and dance closer and closer to their death; but i am worried about this tiny little plant and when its people might die.)

there is something flawed in my education. growing up "gifted" and "talented"; expected to know things that cannot be known; that we have never known; that were never taught. we were separated from the others because we're special. learn this. memorize that. why do you need help? you're with the smart kids. i was fed dreams spoonful by spoonful i choked down the large words swallowed my pride a fifth-grader's brain looked at chess pieces on a diagram and forced the algebra into their head. i went from a little bit above average to two years ahead i started sixth grade with seventh grade english and eighth grade math i couldn't tell yo