Plastic World

The plastered-on smiles, they're everywhere
Everyone encourages me to get one too

But I'm not like that.
I don't smile like that.
If anything, I smile small.
It's not always there,
But it's brilliant when it is.

Plastic people, plastic smiles,
That's all I see.
Everything seems plastic.

Fake, rubbery, and expendable,
That's what plastic is.

They may want to be plastic, but I'm NOT.
I want to be real, to move, to live.
I want to lay on real grass, and pick real flowers,
Not to lay a smooth, flat, green-painted concrete ground.
Not look at fake flowers that are there for show.

Plastic everywhere.
Everyone's plastic.


When can I meet someone real?

The Lessons I've Learned Throughout Eigth Grade

Lessons I've Learned on Prezi

What Do You Love About Me?

What do you love about me?

                                                                                    Everything.

Is it my hair?

I know it’s not the longest, or the prettiest.

It certainly isn’t styled like the other girls around me.

In fact, I find it lackluster.

                                                                                                Yes, I love your hair.

                It doesn’t need to be long or pretty, because it’s pretty enough for me   

                I like the way it hangs down your back, .

                I find it beautiful, shiny, and just like you.

What do you love about me?

                                                                                                Everything.

Is it my mouth?

I know it’s loud and boisterous.

It’s sarcastic and mean.

It’s not the most melodic of voices, but it’s mine.

                   

                                                                  Yes, I love your mouth.

The way it moves when you talk.

The words that come out of your mouth are meaningful, and not mean unless you want it to be.

Just because it’s loud, doesn’t mean it’s bad.

I love the sound of your voice, which sounds like an orchestra, with all the instruments sounding in perfect harmony.

What do you love about me?

                                                                Everything.

Is it my eyes?

They’re brown

Plain, boring brown, just like me

They’re not orange, or blue, or green, just brown.

                   

                                                                                         Yes, I love your eyes.

                                                                                     They way they spark when you look at me,

                                                                                                The way they sparkle when you talk about your

dreams,

When I look at your eyes, I swear that I can see the Earth itself moving.

What do you love about me?

                        Everything.

Is it my skin?

I’m not the tannest girl on Earth,

In fact, I find myself pale.

I don’t have any piercings, so my skin has no holes.

                                                                                              I love all of you

                                                                                              I don’t care what other’s think,

                                                                                             Because I love you just the way you are

                                                                                             I love your hair, your eyes, your mouth, and your skin.

                                                                                             I love you especially.

                                                                                             What do I love about you?

                                                                                            Absolutely everything.

Sometimes, Night Is Cruel

Ultimately, this is a complex of most, as people are alone, afraid, others walk,wandering into the night, not caring if they're on the borderline of insanity.

Sometimes, insomnia takes a firm grasp on someone, making them wonder why they're here, living and breathing, while they blink the sleepless nights away. Sometimes, figures skulk through the night, waiting for a round of fun to begin. Sometimes, people forget, forget themselves, forget their troubles, everything, and let it all go.

Sometimes, the night is cruel.

And always, we push on, waiting for the sunrise, just to begin another day, so that we can move on to another night, where the routine begins once again.

We all hear about the scary, dreadful things that happen at night, but we brush if off, so that we don't need to look at it's ugliness anymore.  With the wimps that we are, we can only hope thtat it doesn't happen again.

Bad enough that we live in  overcrowded noisy cities. Bad enough that we use the night to catch up on the things that we "treasure". Bad enough, we treat it all like a game we play, planning out all the moves we need to win, when you can't really win at all.

Sometimes, you feel the need to wonder if it's ever going to get any better.

We all prowl the night, wondering what makes us, us. We all move through our daily lives, wondering what will happen next, and what the new blow will bring.  We all cling to the hope that things will get better during the day. We allow ourselves to worry at night, whilst ruining the line between stability and and trouble.

We all have our own problems to deal with, but choose to ignore them. We go to psychiatrists, wanting them to solve our problems for us. We get pills, because little colored capsules are infinitely more amazing than thinking about what irks us.

But, as the day begins anew, we all go on in our own little worlds, oblivious by what bounds us all. We dream, we want, we lust, and we move on. We forget, if only for a little while. Sadly, each day we come home only to face our fears again. We all share the same complex. One question: How afraid are you of the dark?

I See You, You See Me

You may be cold and distant to others, but there’s no need  to be so with me.
You think we’re different, but we’re not.
I have struggles just like you. I worry, just like you.

You may be considered legendary, but I see you as a regular person.
I’m not interested about what people love about you, but what you  love.

Don’t surround yourself in this blizzard of indifference.
No matter what it takes, I’ll climb that mountain, and brave the snow, if only for you...
You needn’t to look upon me with wickedness, not everyone means harm.

If you’ll let me, I’ll carry your burdens,
I’ll carry your troubles, because no one should go through life alone.
I’m willing to climb this mountain of yours, if only you’ll come back down with me.