Everyday it’s the same.

I’m always living in your shadow.

Every night I see the light

streaming out from underneath your door.

I hear the laughs,

I see the smiles,

and I’ve never once joined in.

I guess my invitation got lost in the mail.

But did you know that

it stings me

whenever I’m rejected?

Did you know that

it hurts me

when laughing eyes turn cold when I walk in?

I just want to join in.

There is a lion in me

with teeth like swords

and a roar like a hurricane.

It fights like a fire,

and stings like a whip on the back.

It lives in my mind

and makes me a weapon.

I wish I was strong enough to break free.

There is a doe in me

with eyes like an X-ray machine,

with compassion like no equal.

It is silent like a rolling fog,

and is welcoming like a summer breeze.

It lives in my heart

and makes me understanding.

I wish it could fight the lion.

I sit in terror

listening to shells

that drop from the sky

and shatter the earth.

I see the world

I once loved

broken and dead,

killed by the soldiers.

I cannot stay here

any longer.

I have to leave.

But how can I leave

my country,

my home?

I cannot leave.

I mustn’t leave.

Every day

the fighting gets closer.

I hear missiles

and tanks

and screams

and guns.

I see people I know

lying dead on the streets

in pools of blood,

with bulletholes in their chests.

I stay in hiding

in order to stay alive,

but hundreds of others

have been murdered.

For what?

Why do the shells

fall from the sky

turning once-loved

homes into nothing more

than rubble?

Why must I hide

from the soldiers each day,

waiting for safety

I fear never will come?

I have given up hope

that this ever will end.

I know I must leave,

but I cannot leave

my country,

my home.

Dear me,

There are so many questions I need to have answered, and I don't know where to begin. What is the world like where you are from? Is everyone still so wrapped up in the technology that only a choice few take time to even read? Do people still keep secrets from those they are closest to, or has humanity started to bring back a sense of morality? I fear for what the future may bring, but always hope for the best. However, I cannot deny that I fear I may have changed, too. When you are living, what am I like? Do I hold on to my beliefs, or do I abandon all I've ever learned? Am I still as carefree as I am now, or have I for once believed what people say about me to be true? Have I been as kind as I hope I have? If not, where did I go wrong? I need to know exactly how to fix me if I leave the me I am now. So, me, I have one more question.

Who am I?

Hate.

All that comes comes to mind is how much I hate that word.

One word alone can destroy so much,

and I hate it.

People don't realize the weight of the word,

so they throw it around

and damage others.

"I hate you. I hate this."

I hate how that word works.

It tears things down whenever it's used,

and I hate the word for it.

Don't hate yourselves.

Every part of you is beautiful.

If you could see what I see

just by reading and feeling

the things you write

you'd realize that, too.

Don't fall into shadow.

Escape will be hard if you do.

The darkness that follows

will destroy you as much

as the things you are trying to avoid.

I think sometimes I am meant to be more.

More than I am, and more than I want to be.

I am who I am.

Life weighs different amounts for each person, bearing down on us.

Day after day, I carry a thousand pounds.

I’m tired of breaking my back.

Secrets are everywhere and it is so hard to hold on to my sanity.

If life is so difficult, wouldn’t it be better to just let go?

I think I’ll let go.

There was a girl I knew

Who was beautiful and smart

But also insecure.

You could tell her to her face

That she meant the world to you

And she would claim that wasn't true,

Believing that the world would be better off

Without her.

The girl only went on because of

Her family, knowing that if she left

It would destroy them.

And so she forced herself to live

Although her heart longed to die.

Has one ever thought about our dreams,

And what we call reality?

Could it be that life's a dream,

And dreams are our reality?

And when's life course on earth is run,

Will we return to some god above?

Does heaven exist in the stars of our sun,

Or will earth enclose us 'til time is done?