ChestPains92

One step out of line One wrong move One question wrong On the only test that matters. What am I? Am I broken, or whole? Am I a woman, or a man? Can I be both? Do I have to choose? Rivers of air Flowing free No restraints No restrictions. Who am I? Am I lost, or found? Am I gay, or straight? Can I be both? Do I have to choose? The middle path The winding road The blazed trail The wild lands. I am a woman. I am a man. I am gay. I am straight. I am myself. I am me. And I am free.

I want to be the kind of guy that can wear a white tee, black jeans, and still look alive in greyscale photos. I want to have the kind of look that burns a hole through your monochromasia, the guy that doesn't mind getting soaked by the rain. I want to be the kind of guy that can run forwards holding a flag that screams, "justice for all!" and smile. I want to be the kind of guy that someone would love to be loved by. That kind of honest, eccentric guy- who doesn't care that his chromosomes are XX, because he knows who he is, and has made himself the man he wanted to be.

She's seated in the very back Her face composed, her smile a crack Her pencil moves across the page Express her own inner rage. She writes a tale of sorrow sweet A girl who walks with inward feet She keeps tears from leaking down As her lips form a small frown. The girl that she tells of with words Loves the sun and sound of birds But there's twist that ruins the joy The girl she tells of, is a boy. A boy who feels so very sad A boy too lonely to be mad A boy trapped in a crowded shell A boy told that he's destined for hell. She has to take a little break To stop that familiar ache That resides inside her heart Of which is

 One of these days you're going to kiss me. My heart will jump onto the floor, Everything will look all trippy. Babe, your kiss is acid. Lips like sugar, Bringing me to comatose. Your mouth isn't bitter, In fact... your kiss, sweeter than molasses. Eventually you're going to hold me. My soul will just melt, Dripping as if it were butter. Hun, your arms are hotter than any desert. A body like yours... Should be an illegal weapon. You nearly kill me daily, My heart pounds way too fast. My eyes see nothing but love. I can't even register how much. I'm afraid the number is infinite. Your lips bring me the biggest smi

Once, there was a little girl who always smiled. Every morning she would take a walk down the same street that led to the park. And people would turn their heads, whisper, point and stare. She remained unbothered, her icy eyes striking right trough them. An elderly woman stopped the little girl in her tracks, and, theatrically, began to weep tears of heavy, smudged mascara, as the child just stood there, still smiling. "So young, were you born this way?" the woman would shriek and all who observed would whisper amongst themselves and say: "This lady, she must have a heart of gold! Look how she cries for the unfortunate one!" "...yes, I w

 My laugh, it's one thing I love. The loudness, the depth. It changes depending on the joke. Sometimes maniacal, or evil. Giggly and girly, depending if something was cute or adorable. Long and strung out, if I'm having a riot. The smile that goes along with it, it's just as glamorous. Not even I can hate myself while I'm laughing. My heart is only filled with joy. It's one of my most complimented features, I hear it's totally contagious. Only my best friends get to hear it... It's not that I'm shy, you just have to be funny. It takes a lot to make a comedian giggle. I am my own person, with my own sense of humor. Som

I began the string of the word I was the beginning I started everything The fights The best moments The crying fits The screaming fits The fads The crushes You were the second bead In our thread of a bracelet Always eccentric Always persuasive and seeming right Always so convincing Always a leader Always competitive But you were always a friend A good one And loyal too The third was so quiet You never said a peep When you spoke it was wise Or just plain funny But you listened And gave advice You were happy And you were the best of friends Specially to me My twin born of another The fourth was elegant And you were

hello world, i was diagnosed with depression at the young age of nine. and the day i saved my first writing piece of your not-so-presumptuous cat and dog story was november eighteenth, two thousand and two. my writing was of the astronomy of our stars that we see after the sunset falls to create a pool of blackness. every word was strung together, even back then when i was "happy". but maybe i was wrong, maybe i wasn't so happy after all. maybe i was just a broken adolescent waiting for her chance to escape from a living hell. and so when i read of the stars not making my wishes come true, i began to believe that everything wasn't true. i l

 Just because I'm your best friend, Just because I'm not the perfect weight, Just because I'm not often happy, Just because I don't always wear make up, Just because I don't "fit in", Just because I don't play soccer, Just because we aren't into the same exact music, Just because my skin isn't perfect, Just because you don't see it yet..... That doesn't mean we aren't completely perfect for each other.