Let them be as flowers
always watered, fed, guarded, admired,
but harnessed to a pot of dirt.
...
I am fourteen
and my skin has betrayed me
the boy I cannot live without
still sucks his thumb
...
The window to the soul.
They say everthing
without saying a word at all.
They leave you blind
or let you see too much.
...
Love is like a rose blossoming over time
If it is rushed to bring it's beauty
...
I seem to be a child stuck in old ways
But really I am a growing girl going threw a phase
I seem to be seem to be a careless teen ruled by emtion
But really I am under the spell of a cruel love potion
...
Identity
Let them be as flowers
always watered, fed, guarded, admired,
but harnessed to a pot of dirt.
I'd rather be a tall, ugly weed,
clinging on clffs, like an eagle
wind-wavering above high, jagged rocks.
To have broken through surface of stone,
to live, to feel exposed to the madness
of the vast, eternal sky.
To be swayed by the breezes of an ancient sea,
carrying my soul, my seed,
I'd rather be unseen, and if
then shunned by everyone,
than to be a pleasant-smelling flower,
growing in clusters in the fertile valley,
where they are praised, handled, and plucked
by greedy human hands.
I'd rather smell of musty, green stench
than of sweet, fragrant lilac.
If I could stand alone, strong and free,
I'd rather be a tall ugly weed.