What is Love?

What is Love?

Love is a small bud

growing on a small plant

during the winter season,

cold,

weak,

alone

Until spring comes

it blossoms and grows into a beautiful flower

bright colors, tall stem, the small plant has grown into a large plant

during summer the plant grows some more

taking in sunlight and looking better than ever

But winter returns

the plant shrinks, the flowers die,

and the plant is again a small bud

After the long hard winter, spring visits again

The bud soon grows into a flower again

With many brighter flowers and a longer stem

Childhood

Childhood

I have been reading comics my whole life

I LIVED the spider man tv shows

I pretty much came out of the womb with a cape and mask

I would go to the supermarket as spiderman

I would decorate my room because of comics

I would spend hours watching the shows and movies

To the point where my eyes burnt and my head ached

I would buy teenage mutant ninja turtles and try to burn shredder in the microwave

I would throw my toys out the window with a homemade parachute

Then cry when the dog ate them

I would go to school with a spiderman wallet and lunch box.

I would. make a pillow fort and pretend I was batman in my batcave

I would get silly spray and spray it to be spiderman

Then get grounded for staining the walls

I would jump off the bed with a blanket around my neck and hit my head

Then have a massive bruise on my face and call myself “EGG MAN”

I would leave black scratches on the wall from when I was playing with my batmobile

I would go to midnight releases and fall asleep halfway through

Then wake up and watch it again the next day.

But no matter how many times I moved or how many times I came home sad I still had super heroes

Refrigerator

Ode to my Fridge

It’s there everyday,

waiting

for the hungry child to open the door,

and cure the everlasting problem of

famine.

It cures all:

sadness,

distress,

and anger.

Leaving residue of a smile.

It also asks for nothing in return.

We take,

and take,

and take,

and eat.

Praying.

Its payment will be all so sweet.

It sleeps all day,

until,

the door is opened,

and a sliver of light is released.

By waking up the fridge,

you will receive a special treat.

when I grow up

when I grow up

When I was young

the only thing I wanted

was to grow up .

Today I am already old.

able to do anything

go wherever I want

whenever I want

hangout with friends

school dances

date

drive soon

Truth is I want to be a little kid again

where we play with barbies and truck cars

where we don’t worry if our eyebrows are on fleek

If my outfit is on point

where we wear whatever clothing we want because in the end we know we are always going to end up getting dirty either way.

where we thought boys had cooties

where girls were gross

where we didn’t stress about grades, homework and boys were not one of our problems

where we watched Kim Possible, Hannah Montana, That’s So Raven, Spongebob and all those funny little kids shows that were on.

I just want to be a kid again to live with innocence and to get amazed once again by life.

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Pretty, Skinny Girls Poem

All girls could think about is wanting to be pretty

some grow up thinking the only way they are going to be pretty is by

being skinny to show off their bodies and try to catch other boys attention by showing off their so called “features”

Does nobody else realize that this is exactly what has caused depression and somehow social anxiety?

Girls can’t expose themselves out in the open because they want to look a certain way but they can’t.

They think they can’t dress the way they want to because they won’t fit in with the other “Pretty,Skinny girls”.

“But let me just stuff a little bit more”

Still feel insecure.

Those boys don’t care

they know they are fake

Tears roll down your face you have to learn the hard way.

What has this world come to?

Are we all going to decide what we are going to look like based off of models on TV?

Rather than looking like who we really are?

It’s okay to want to be pretty

We all have complained about the way we look, the way our bodies are shaped

But never realize how sometimes the most beautiful thing is to be yourself.
 

Basketball

                                  Basketball

Learning how to shoot was the easy part

Having to go against someone wasn’t so easy

Knowing it could get me hurt wasn’t a thought

Until i got caught putting ice on my wrist by my mom

The feeling you get when you make a shot

Which gives you thought  like your first time riding a bike

The excitement and happiness is unforgettable

Don’t get me started when going to a game

It’s like you are watching from your tv but you can see your favorite players

I enjoy everything about basketball

The buzzer beater can make you feel like you getting your first car

Knowing the team your rooting for makes the shot to win the game is a jumpy feeling

OKC OKC OKC is the team you can see winning a championship game

They may have their wins and loses but know they can’t bring you down

Their fun to watch and you can learn a lot

Memories

Moving forward without looking back is hard,

You look back at the old memories in longing,

But are also excited about the new ones,

Memories are eternal,

The good ones and the bad ones,

All the times you cried,

All the times you laughed,

All the times you lied,

All the times you yelled,

All the times you shared,

All the times you cared,

They will always be unforgettable,

They will always be unreplaceable,

Coming back to where you came from,

May feel like you’re taking one step back,

But you are actually moving one step forward,

The past is the past,

The future is the future,

But sometimes your past is what helps your future,

Like when you go back to where your past started.

"To Kid" Created by Victoria Lee

"To Kid"

Victoria Lee

Why do I kid around,                             Pretending to say one thing               And then hiding it with a False statement?                                  I guess this is okay               Because only I know the truth              Without second guessing a lie.                     How long can the meaning                       Of two words be ignored for,                          Until forgiveness is needed?                                  There are times “to  kid”                          When words are forgotten,                           As easy as forgetting an                           Answer to a question.                       But I guess it is okay “to kid”,                               If what is said is not true                                   And still said out loud.                                    Then it is okay,                               To  “pretend” with words                                          And Emotions.

It makes it okay to judge and criticize,         Pretending to feel superior  Maybe even satisfied inside.              It is okay to use profanity,           Calling each other names for fun,      And making few memories,  When “to kid” is taken literally,      Determining the difference between   What is reality is blinding.               Close to a life or a death,            Is this the time “to kid”?       It is okay because I have a reason     I might feel discouragement,       Abandoned,     And maybe having dreams disappear.                But it is okay.                      So why do I kid around?                    Because only I know               Who’s pretending.

Why Even Bother?

Why Even Bother?

If only you knew

My true emotions

I would not be a mystery.

Why even bother

When nobody listens,

When your voice is not heard

Not a word or a phrase

They acknowledge you with a comment or nod

But all they hear are sounds coming from your mouth

Like a machine gun spitting bullets aimlessly

Your reputation silences your voice

And it is not even your own choice.

In my dive group, I am one of those voices

Not heard, not acknowledged

All because of my reputation

“You are immature and goofy” they say

All because of a different me

that lived four years ago today.

And even when I try, try, try

To get my voice heard

It’s not, so I just cry

When nobody is watching.

The girl I’ve been carpooling with for four years

Is one of the main sources of my tears

Because she is too busy with my own brother

To hear that I am trying to talk to her.

It is my reputation that I am immature

Even though I have tried to tell them

That I have changed, but nobody hears me

And I am left with a reputation of a boy nobody wants to be.

Even to my sister, my voice is not heard

I talk, and she just says, “Okay, sure”

In the sarcastic tone she says when she doesn’t listen

Treating me like my opinion is worth that of a boy at age seven.

Every person in that group,

The ones I call friends

Haven’t heard my voice

Ever since I met them at age ten.

Insanity

I count the tiles

on the floor of the bathroom

in which I sit anxiously trying to catch my breath

one hundred thirty five

I count the scratches

on the mirror

that does not even begin to reflect

what’s real

sixteen

I count the number of times

your name flashes through my mind

in a single second

two hundred twenty seven

I reach my hand out

to get a taste of truly living

bitter

only to learn I’m just out of reach

the only thing that lingers on my tongue

is the taste of your love

sweet

I grasp onto the only thing I’ve ever known

Insanity

and in this twisted of living

you’re here

you’re fucking toxic

but the way you fill my veins

makes me feel so god damn alive

I am a maze

I am a puzzle

I am psychotic

once you’re in there’s no escaping

because i hold onto things a little too tight

now you can’t breathe

my shaking bruised hands wrap around your pale throat

try to find your way out baby

you’ll never leave

I hold on tighter each time you tug

now you’re dying

oh how lovely you look

gasping for air

I am a puzzle

only I know how to be completed

but it amuses me to watch you try

and fit the pieces together

I am psychotic

I am a reflection of every nightmare I have awoken from

I count the tiles

on the bathroom floor in which I sit

one..two..three..