Can you see me between the lines of this poem Peaking out behind the imposing columns Of the words that I have created Yet which are slowly uncreating me. Can you find me in the contours of every word Molding my body to shape of the letters That makes up my very essence, my very soul They are my children that have one by one left me. Can you search for me when I am lost in this forest of words When they consume me and leave me for dead Will you be there waiting to help pick up the ruin of who I have become Or will I be left alone with the whispers of the words begging to be born. ...

I am tired now let me sleep The little girl says in a voice scarred By winters claws in her throat Not yet, not quite yet Our feet drag in the snow Her little hand held loosely in my own If I can not feel my own hand How am I supposed to keep track of hers I feel her hands slipping frequently From within my grasp To hang limp by her sides They drag her down She is so little So fragile I have to take care of her But even as I think this I feel my eyelids dragging too We are dying And I know this I wonder if she knows too ...

She leans into the mirror Closer and closer Until they are almost one She purses her lips As she slowly opens A tube of bright red lipstick She watches with reverence And a humble respect The monolith of red Emerge like a sword From its sheath On the tube it says rogue Like the rebel has become As she brushes it across her lips Soft as a feather Like a paintbrush Stringing out a line of calligraphy On the most pure of white paper She stays for a moment As she always does Looking her reflection in the eye Her eyes burn like emeralds A fire of ambition With pursed red lips And the smallest of smiles She is ready to conquer To never loose control Of her life ever again Now she is ready to face the world With her lips bathed in red The face of a new woman The only traces of the old Are exposed like roses On the petals of her lips The blood of the disposed of Her old dead self The self who used to look in the mirror To hollow eyes And bruises on her face No longer is it her own blood That lingers on her lips But the bright red paint Of everything she has overcome They ask her why she does it But they can’t understand How far she tries to bury The woman she once was The weak one who was beaten In her place stands a warrior Fierce and strong The trophies of her battles Laid down layer by layer On her lips The blood of those she has defeated And the blood she has spilt herself She is the rogue With the warriors seal Painted on her lips She faces each day Knowing that finally she can defeat it

On a field trip with the other IB art students at my school we went on an adventure to Pebble Beach near Pigeon Point Lighthouse to do some earth work artwork. It was a lot of fun, some people did works inspired by the wonderful Andy Goldsworthy, and others just had a lot of fun being creative by using only things found on the beach. My favorite piece was my friend Hailey’s earthwork which she made out of snail shells she found on the beach. It reminded me of Andy Goldsworthy a lot and was beautiful. ...

She leaves her hearts In the strangest of places Hidden around the world Each heart for its owner Who lost it long ago But she kept them safe In the dark of the night Making sure their fire Never truly died Keeping them alive In the darkest of hours Nursing them back to life After they were broken After they were discarded With the drop of a hat She is the keeper of the hearts Holding each within her own Waiting on the outskirts For when it is finally time To return them to their owners The empty ones The ones without purpose Living a meaningless life She waits ever patient The unsung hero of hearts Who keeps the fire of life burning In this ever darkening world As long as the hidden hearts remain There is hope for humanity ...

Come sit with me in the dark Let me introduce you A first acquaintance That quickly becomes A long drawn out partnership With a parasite A monkey you can’t Seem to get off your back Sit me with Stand with me Cry with me Laugh with me In darkness This is a whole new world Where Hell Is only Hell No heaven behind Closed off gates And a smiling face Is the one you must beware Shake hands Politely speak to one another Soft drums beat near by Where children giggle Pointing at you Staring at you With eyes to big And too dark Sitting here Does it make you nervous You seem nervous You shouldn’t be This is home Welcome back son The lost child Long returned home We’ve been waiting Sighing out each breath Into darkness Where words fall From mouths So uncouth and unforgiving An ugly world full of beauty A contradictory that has No limitations or boundaries Where no ends meet The path just ends From the corners You are watched Stalked day and night By what You may never know Every time the lights go out You know I am waiting Waiting just for you I have lingered on the outside Watching from the sidelines But not for long So come sit with me In the dark Where secrets are told And lies are whispered And eyes are always looking Welcome home Make sure to shut the door Behind you tight Don’t let the darkness out

I think it is tragically cute when children have mullets. Either that child’s hair just grew in strangely, which I can emphasize with because that was my case as well. (I had a bowl-shaped cut for the longest time because my hair would not grow, and yes I looked like a boy). Or else for some demented reason, the parents thought it would be adorable if their child had a mullet. The answer to that is no, even though children can pull off a mullet it is ill-advised. It is hard not to laugh when you see a kid with a mullet, but this child was adorable and laughable. ...

I find you dull and inconsistent You find me aloof and contrived We find each other irritated By one another We see each other More often than we both please Catching each others eyes As we turn around corners Trying to avoid eye contact When it is inevitable We always find ourselves Face to face with the things we hate The things we fear and wish never would be But yet here they are Opposites of nothing Similar in absence Meaningless in all I find you heartbreaking You find me despairing Yet we are the same The face in the mirror You wish you couldn’t see The devil on your shoulder Who told you who to be You are my adversary Yet you are me But every day I realize Too long I have been my own enemy