(I guess you've forgotten) How I Feel

This is a song. I was singing it. I was bored

I don't really care-care,
How I wear my hair-hair.
I really never was that type of girl.

What I think of boys-boys?
They just make noise-noise,
They're crude and rude and I don't need them.

How could you keep asking me these questions?
The questions you know I won't answer
Just the way you want them.
So I guess, you've forgotten how I feel.

Ohohohohohohohohoh.

So I guess, you've forgotten how I feel.

Cookie Jar

You reach for the Cookie Jar,
'It's just on top of the fridge,'
You tell yourself.
'I'm sure I can reach it.'

So you stand on your tip-toes,
Stretching as far as you can,
To get a tasty little morsel,
Your mother told you you couldn't have.

'It'll spoil your appetite,'
You remember her saying.
But you still reach up,
Not caring about the consequences.

You can't reach by yourself,
You soon realize though.
And get a small step
To boost yourself up.

Your fingers just barely touch
That smooth glass pot you're aiming to grab.
So you still stretch,
To try and grab it.

You manage to just barely grasp it,
In your small little hands.
So you come tumbling down,
Your yummy prize in hand.

You've bruised yourself a bit,
Trying to get what your mother said,
You couldn't have before dinner.
But that doesn't really matter to you.

You eat one cookie,
You tell yourself,
'I'll only have a few more.'
But you just can't stop.

It's so yummy you eat the entire jar,
Leaving only a few crumbs in the bottom.
You panic, realizing what you've done,
And how angry your mother is going to be.

You manage to slide the jar,
Neatly back onto the fridge.
You had such a good taste in your mouth,
But now it's a bitter and sour one.

You realize it's because you feel guilty.
When your mother comes home,
The taste gets worse.
Like it even could.

You don't want to eat anymore.
Your mother was right,
The cookies would ruin your appetite.
You didn't like the fact you felt guilty.

A few days later,
You pull down the Cookie Jar again.
It's lighter than it was,
for it's lack of cookies inside.

You open it up,
Just to remind you,
Of how guilty you feel,
Because the feelings been gnawing at you.

To your surprise though,
Instead of being an empty jar,
There's a note inside.
It has your name on the outside.

You open it up,
And here's what it says:

'Dear Child of Mine,
You probably don't feel to well right now.
It's fine though,
I forgive you.'

'Don't worry,
Laugh it off.
I did the same,
When I was a child of your age.'

'If you told me,
That bad feeling you feel,
(I've felt it too,
That's how I know)'

'Would have gone away,
Much sooner than when you found this.
Always remember though,
Even if I had been upset,'

'I love you much,
much,
more than I could ever say,
Your Dearest Mother'

You laughed,
And you wiped away
The tears and also,
That bad feeling you had.

Eating all of the cookies.
It hadn't been a bad thing,
After all,
You suppose.

You put back the Cookie Jar,
And went to the Living Room,
It would be okay,
It was a learning experience.

Your Words

You're so deep that you're drowing
In your own words of wisdom.

I hate to admit that you're good with words,
Words that make me cry because they relate to me so much.

The words on your paper are prettier than mine,
Cuz you were raised that way, and I wasn't.

You're so nice I don't know what to do with you.
You're so nice you don't realize you're hanging with the wrong people.

It weird that when I look at your face I loathe you,
But when I look at your words, it seems we could be best friends.

It's strange you could stab so deep into me,
Even though I feel as if when you do so, I won't bleed at all.

Your look is a sugar plum fairy,
Your words can be the same.

Your look is an evil demon,
Your words can be the same.

Your words work magic,
The dark and the light kind.

Your words will reach me through the shield
I try to put up.

So please don't speak to me,
I'd prefer pretending to know who you are,
And not know any further than that.
____________________________________________________________________________

It's really no use trying to compliment me if it comes out sounding like an insult. If that happens, I'd prefer it you'd never tried in the first place.

To be Glassed

Today, I didn't wear my glasses to school.
Instead, I wore my contacts.
(Which, for your information, I hardly ever wear)
In the morning, one of my old friends
(We don't talk much)
Told me, "You look weird without glasses."
"Just saying."
Later, a boy I don't like much,
(You would know why if you knew him)
Also, told me I looked weird.
I've always been told I have pretty eyes,
And should consider wearing contacts.
I did.
After I got home, I was in a sour mood.
I looked back, and wanted to cry.
Then I thought that if I did cry,
Maybe my contacts would fall out,
And I wouldn't be called weird anymore.
Then I thought poetically,
And made this.
So, I'll remain glassed,
(Until I'm older, at least)
And hide my eyes.
If more people actually learn,
(I can't trust all people will)
To look through a thin layer of glass,
And see my eyes,
(They are very important, you know)
I might consider removing my glasses.
Until then,
I will conceal my eyes,
with a thin layer of glass.
And, with that thin layer,
My emotions will hide,
(for that is what eyes show,
more than anything)
For they are
To be glassed.

An Unfair Always

To tell the truth,
I've never found God all that nice and fun loving.
You remember Adam and Eve, right?
Well, when Eve ate the apple,
God said that all women would be in pain while birthing.
And that we would all turn back to dust from whence we came.
I think of that as an unfair always.
Say if it wasn't Adam and Eve,
If it was someone else.
Maybe they wouldn't have given in,
And we wouldn't have to do this.
One circumstance shouldn't result in an unfair always.

An Attic of Security

An attic or a basement,
Is usually known,
As a place where it is dangerous,
And you should never go.
A place where we keep
All the the monsters and the beasts,
And all the other things,
Of which we care not to speak.
But an attic or a basement,
For me,
Is quite serene.
A place where I may be alone,
to all my thoughts and dreams.
But I may also feel security.
Which means I feel safe,
With all the monsters and the beasts.
They help me explore,
The old piles of things,
That I've never seen before.
It makes me very happy,
To be able to do so,
with all my scary little friends.
Now, don't you go thinking,
You must do the same.
Because an attic,
Or a basement,
Is still as secure,
If it is called, by any other name.