bold
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“Drum Major, is your band ready?”
A booming voice said over the intercom of the stadium,
I turn around on my conducting ladder, facing the judges and the crowd, and out of me shouts the words,
I'm still afraid to make a move
That others may not approve.
I'm still afraid to be myself
As I'm not like everybody else.
I'm still afraid to reveal my heart
Because I can't let things fall apart.
There it is
The Door.
You know the one
You pass it every single day
This time, though
You stop and look
Just briefly
this is America don’t catch you slipping, NOthis is Americawhere aks do the talking where Krazy Krooked Kut from a differ
Dear Poetry,
I used to wanna run away,
To hide the words inside.
But, then you taught me how to say
All the things I've pushed aside.
Dear Self – Doubt,
How does it feel to betray the trust of someone who believed in you?
Perpetrating as a friend, a perfect someone to depend.
A trusted advisor, your logic a realistic perception of truth.
I've never turned down a dare.
They call me fearless,
I don't tell them I cry most nights because of the unknown.
I do what I want when I want.
They call me bold,
It takes me back to when I was young,
Bold.
Fearless, and told to
“Rub some dirt in it,”
Before being fit into a mold
And told
That this is what life is.
Flames burned through the night
They wouldn’t be put down without a fight.
Determination etched off each spark
Lighting up every inch of the dark.
There’s something about bold font
That stands out from the normal lettering
subconsciously hollering within one’s head
Because it all started with a young boy entering junior high,
Your skin, it breathes
Your hair, it speaks,
Your mouth it loves.
You speak gods into the minds of men
and your silence shakes the Earth that supports you
Its hard to feel awesome, when pain lingers
Success is something for every one.
But success is rewarded to the bold.
Thats why it pays to be bold.
My reason for writing is not just because I can, but rather it's who I am
Poetry is more than just an art of flowing words together melodically
But it is my therapy
I never spoke to you face to face, I am not your friend.
Yet you lived so close to me, it was inevitable for us to have some contact.
With a text you reached out to me.
Hey.
What's Up?
How are you?
I am dead
A vessel without a soul
I am careless and reckless
Sleeping under the demons that eat my heart
I am the bullet, the blade
One day, my shoulders will give inDefiance will admit defeat, and they willDrop, like theBone-weary man wrapped around himself, shivering in the cold.
I met a girl
and she was blue.
I met a boy
and his daddy took away all his fancy toys.
I met a mother
We fear rejection, we want attention, We crave affection and dream of perfectionWe wanna screw life; penetrationBut shes screws us over; procrastination In the end we end up jerking ourselves; masturbation
Short
Quick
Breaths
Try and hold
Me together
But fail
In utter
Lack of strength.
Massive voids
Consume my middle
Bigger than me
Yet part of
Me
When you shake my hand can you tell who I really am?
Or is it in my voice that makes you understand?
For all you could know I am the girl next door,
Or maybe even the girl that you have labeled the school whore.
A pure divine to life, beautiful as a lotus
that blooms from the dripples of water, and the rays from the sun.
From the soil a seed was planted, deep in the womb
The anatomy wept from agony and painless fear
