3 poems.

I've gotten to the point where rebellion is like a passion.
I try hard to not listen you because you didn't know I had it (in me).
Yeah it's crazy how life goes when you think you're growing up.
In the middle between adult and child, they're pulling me I'm stuck.
Lifes a has been, has been a child has been a babe.
Never was an adult but I don't think I wan to be in that stage.
But rebellion it's like a way to assert my posistion.
Ha! Yeah even though you decline and force it to disposition.
Rebellion is my teenage brains way of spelling out my independence.
So yea here's more rebellion just let me begin this.
You want to help me control my life and still take part of my choice,
But then you tell me not to walk with the crowd..."Don't you have your own voice?!"
yea I do but I'm still trying to fit in...
lol man whatever I see how this will end.
You always come out on top I know you're always right, literal not sarcasm,
But still I wanna take the flight.
I wanna see the hurt life has to show me.
I wanna challenge you to fate, to how you really know me.
How did you feel? Remember life is a has been.
Has been a teenager, has been a mischief.
You liked it so why should you let me miss this?
Let me make my own mistakes, let me be my own voice,
let me be your has been, let me see your voice.
Let me see what you saw no matter what good or what not.
Let me learn my own way life won't always be about what you taught.
You've gotta let me live life the way it comes at me,
you gotta let me try life try to let me be me.
You can't mold me into another you, I won't let it happen.
Here it is again see, life is a has been.
Has been p.y.t has been the girl to envy.
Has been in love with love, then heartbroken then the same girl to pity.
So what I'm askin for better yet, for what I rebel,
Is for you to let ke feel what you did when you fell
To feel the excitement of your firsts and your lasts
I want to be able to say I've lived like you have
Let me make my mistakes I promise you can still reward me with undying consequence
As long as you let me keep a little bit of my rebellion a decleration of teenage independence
I'm getting more profound, you don't agree I still think I'm growing up.
You want me to stop, but for rebellions sake, my time is not yet up.


She lived her life in a cage
But She spoke with beauty
The things he put her through
She was georgeous
But you can't see it now.
Under neath it
The Pain
She wanted to say something.
But she forgave him.
Forsaking her beautiful Speaking.
And said nothing.
Her children's hero.
She had her life all together
He never cared though
She's just a woman.
He's the strong man.
So he tried to prove it.
She wanted to say something
But she forgave him
Forsaking her beautiful Speaking.
And said nothing.
I love him to life
He loves me to death.
She only needed ice
Or To catch her breath.
A necklace of bruises
From a heart of fury
To speak now?
useless
Because life in her endures
In one breath.
One sigh.
One mouth full of blood.
Her last words.
were in her eyes.
He knew that face
He saw the despair before.
The hopelessness.
But it was different this time.
He knew he killed her.
So he let her speak.
And she spoke.
How could I give you my love.
My time. My life.
My beauty
How could I let you take my words.
The last words she heard were from his mouth.
They sounded remorseful
Two words.
To end her life.
Two words.
"I wish."
She thought he wished he hadnt.
But he only wished she had died sooner.
She wanted to say something
But she died
Forsaking her family and friends
And says nothing.

She is beautiful on the outside
but her inside cries
don't be deterred by a cliche
vapid expression, adage.
as it describes a life presumed hurtless.
a life persumed to be perfect
A lie all her own.
the truth is supposed
that she is a work of art
and she would impart,
she loves her friends
she'd never fail to patiently lend
her ear.
she'd say her greatest fears
were things like heights and insects
a girl.
a cliche so perfect.
she'd lie, she'd cheat, she'd sin
for the one she loved, and indeed she loved them.
she'd be caught, but she wouldn't succumb
to breaking the luminescent laws of martyrdom
she was a great friend to love
"an angel sent from high above"
something I guess people say.
well, she's just another adage.
her name was legacy, and why wouldn't it be?
her mom was one of those actresses on t.v.
mom sang and danced and played the roles
mom starved and purged to fit her clothes.
legacy sometimes did the same
after all, legacy was her name
"size doesn't matter. its what's on the outside that counts"
so legacy pretended her looks didn't matter an ounce
the idea that inner beats outer impression,
is simply another vapid expression.
legacy had enough of the shallow
a product of minds, hollow
she embraced her inner pain
let go of all the things that she felt
the slightest culpability would disarm itself
she'd feel an invigorating encouragement
from the pain now caressing her heart.
the tears rolling down her brown skin
the hate and resentment she felt toward her
"friends" who let her cheat, lie, sin.
She grabbed those jet black leggings she'd been dying to wear
and aggressively tie a secure knot around the bar of her walk in closet
slowly but with a self assurance, she'd place a black noose around her neck
and hope she wouldn't live to be strangled, hoping her neck would snap
at the pinpoint in time that her body would drop
dangle a little
but then it would stop
and she'd die.
so she did.  
"she took her own life"
no,
she didn't
She offed herself in a closet with a pair of cheap leggings.