The Silent OnesIf I told you of the silent ones,
you'd laugh at me,
and call my words puns.
You wouldn't believe them, because of who they are,
or what they are,
you'd think they're as rare as shooting stars.
But I'm prepared for the backlash as I begin to say,
the silent ones are the humans you see,
Boys are the silent ones, first and foremost,
as their feelings are disregarded,
in society, the most.
Then there's the suffering, who whirl in depression,
consider mentally ill patients,
and their violent regression.
Next are the bullied, for they're like gum on shoes,
to many suicides,
are making the news.
Consider the victims who run around confused,
who despite their ordeals,
have no sides to chose.
And we have babies who are killed before birth,
whose lives are stolen from them,
before they come to earth.
Some are unwanted, and some are just wrong,
because who wants a disabled child or a girl,
they're as unsightly as frogs.
We have the people who try to do right,
but who are usually tramp
this is for the silent boysThis is for the silent boys,
who live and die unnoticed.
Whose lives are shushed, and pushed away
and deaths go out unfocused.
Who society deems unworthy to mourn,
because they're not important.
An evil brush we paint on them,
without ever getting to know them.
For the boy who hides behind a mask,
afraid to report his rape.
To the boy who is locked away in jail,
because a woman called a fake.
To the Bacha Bazi forced to dance,
for the cruelty of the world.
For the boys who lose their hopes and limbs,
fighting in bloody wars.
Please young men, hear me now, society cares for you,
and even though you may not believe it, it is only but a few.
You are not forgotten, you are not abandoned, and you are not the victim of hate,
so please dear boys, hold your head up, and do not accept this cruel fate.
I write this for the silent boys, who can no longer speak,
for the silent boys who stood before Mr. Rodgers, and met
their untimely defeat.
And for the counselors who waited, sad words I ha
a girl at the airportwhen she eats cake
she presses a napkin
to her lips with each bite--
frosting smears are impolite
murderers of good,
faraway first impressions.
when she sees someone
beautiful, she hides her face
behind a book, book shelf, closed door
like a pious man hides his eyes
when she has something
important to say among a crowd
she utters it like the bah
of a vulnerable lamb--
a fragile thing, a hesitant mantra
to be drowned and consumed
without thought or care by the sound
of louder others.
when she falls in love
she looks around
to make sure no one saw
and when someone sees
she refuses to believe
their eyes tried to catch
Mental Disorder DinerWhy hello there miss.
Welcome to battered and scarred restaurant,
where disorders are over cooked, raw or however you like it.
Would you like to start with our appet…. I mean anxiety disorders?
I'll start off simple with panic disorder,
while being a simple dish, it has a bad after taste of fear.
You can taste the fear from here.
Next up we have our social anxiety disorder,
This disorder is on back order and
too scared to show up to the meal sometimes.
It does however come with a side of sweat
No, not your style?
PTSD is our special appetizer of the day,
because it only trusts on some days
and comes with flashbacks on the side.
Next we're on to our specials, considered the hardest disorders.
First is bi polarity, which will take you through a number of sensations.
from sad blue to normal grey to euphoric high yellow,
Schizophrenia is a unpopular one of many,
the hallucinations are controlling and over cooked.
A bit too difficult to chew?
Our main courses are eating disorders.
Girls Are Not Made of SugarGirls are not made of sugar.
We do not melt under a single touch.
Our hearts aren’t made of glass,
They’re made of muscle,
and will never shatter under your crushing blow.
Our skulls aren't filled with poetry.
It’s instead filled with pictures and broken desires, dreams and hopes.
Girl’s hair is not made of silk,
It is instead, made up of dead cells that we hide behind,
But not from you; for you’re nothing to fear.
Our hearts are only there to pump our blood.
Our hair is only there to cover our heads.
Our muscles are there to help us move.
And our brains are there to help us think.
We are not there for you.
We can survive without you.
Our bones refuse to break.
And we’ll always end up standing,
Because It’s only you,
Who can’t survive without us.
We Are Selfish PeopleWe live in a selfish world,
and we are incredibly selfish people.
Fighting about rich women's and men's rights,
we neglect the starving children, and disregard their rights.
Our world is gassing itself daily,
submerged in flames and burning,
like a gruesome Holocaust that repeats itself
Religion has done more damage, than it has good.
We fight in the name of one God,
but the victor remains unclear.
Fat and thin, beautiful and ugly,
all stem from one terrible, cruel word.
we care about our looks, we care about how society sees us
We care about how we see us.
We would rather leave the house practically naked,
and proclaim it's our right,
then donate a dollar to the poor, who are forced to starve at night.
Or fight for inequality, that's hardly there,
cry misandry and misogyny into the air.
Our priorities are screwed, and our lives are damned,
we're are selfish people, we women and men.
And that cure for diseases, for us it can wait,
we're too busy complaining
Everyone knows that.
I have not a presence,
I have not a voice,
I have not a reality,
I'm just not there.
It really isn't fun,
Because my emotions
My ideas, my thoughts,
My body, my being,
Is pushed around.
Maybe if I
Could open my mouth,
Could make myself talk,
Could make my
I would be seen.
But I cant,
So I'll disappear,
Go back to my world,
And not speak,
Not show emotion,
And be invisible
AloneIt is quite funny how something simple,
So simple in both nature and action,
Can make you feel so utterly
Something simple like
Your friends all having time to be together
But no time to be with you.
Something simple like
Your friends smiling and laughing
While you fight the unhappiness inside you
That they don’t seem to notice.
Something as simple as
Not being invited to a party
Because they “exceeded the limit they could invite.”
Something as simple as
Always following behind, one step away
But as you slow to a stop
They don’t turn to make sure you are still okay.
It is quite angering and upsetting
To always have to wonder why.
Why it seems like you aren’t important enough
To keep them company.
Why you will never be good enough
To truly be their friend.
Why you will always be left behind
When you want so much to take part in it.
Why you are always just “average” enough
To never make a lasting impression.
How is one supposed to be
The quiet onesThe Quiet Ones
It's the quiet ones you have to watch out for:
the ones who sit in class, doodling in their notebooks.
Alone they're harmless and keep to themselves.
But don't be fooled, their brains are a flurry of activity.
Put two or more of them together, and you'll wonder what the heck happened.
These "quiet ones" start talking, start plotting.
They've planned each other's brutal deaths....multiple times.
They've discussed the zombie apocalypse....and how they'd start it.
The end of the world has four backup plans....to ensure its demise.
And you can almost guarantee your death has been penciled in for next Tuesday.
So be careful, 'cause it's the quiet ones you have to watch out for.