Hidden...

There's a mask I like to wear,

That hides my soul,
Hides my heart,

Hides my pain.

A smile painted on my lips

is all it takes.

But have you seen behind my eyes?

Have you looked deep inside?

There's a game I like to play,

That helps me forget about life

That keeps me safe.

I can put on my mask.

I can fool the world

And so I win.

Have you ever tried to beat me?

Have you ever asked in?

There's a world buzzing around me,
Painted so beautifully with smiles and love.

So many people hurting,

So many people winning their own games.

Longing,

Begging for someone to outsmart them.

Praying for someone who will look beyond their mask.

Hoping that it will be soon.

Listen...

Listen to the wind,
Whispering through the night.
Listen to the rain,
Hushed and, oh, so quiet.

Listen to the silence,
So peaceful and yet so loud.
Listen for that voice,
Calling out for you in the crowd.

Listen to your feet,
Carrying you from your fears.
Listen you your heart,
It's what's kept you here all these years.

What Matters?

In the end,
When everything fades,
And there's nothing but the light,
Will any of this matter?

In the end,
When everything else vanishes,
And you go to meet your judgement,
What will really matter?

Not your money,
Not your beauty,
Not your job,
Not your possessions ,
Not how popular you were,
Not how many friends you had.

When you reach your judgement
God doesn't care about earthly things,
But rather your heavenly treasures

He cares whether you lived for Him
Whether you were a light
Whether you loved His people
Whether you accepted the gift of His son's life

So what really matters in this life?

Is it your money?
Your beauty?
Your job?
Your possessions?
Popularity?
Friends?

No
It's not what you have in life
But rather how you live your life

Racing to You

Running
As fast as I can
Breathless
As my legs carry me through the darkness
Faster

Staring
But my eyes do not see
Searching
But I cannot find you in the darkness
Looking

Walls

Closing in on me in the darkness

Suffocating

And then my adrenaline can no longer ignore the pain

Blackness

And then you're there
A perfect picture in my mind
Whispering sweet words in my ear
And for now,
I can stop running, searching, suffocating
For now,
I am safe

In A World of Darkness

I stare up at the black sky
Hoping to see just one star,
Just one twinkle of light in a panorama of darkness,
Just one small reminder of what I miss so dearly.

Studying the hopeless sky,
Praying to the heavens
To show a glimmer truth,
To show a spark of hope.

I cry out for proof of good
For the world has turned evil;
I call out for peace and joy,
But most of all, I cry out for love.

I weep as the sky remains starless,
The world remains heartless.
We don't notice that we live in darkness;
We continue to harm each other.

And these tears stain my cheeks
For the sky is too great to change for one small girl
The world is too stubborn to listen to one hurting child
We'll all act the same until we get what they we really need:
LOVE




I know that I have posted this poem before, but I made these revisions to it and entered it in a contest and it's going to be published in a book! So I had to repost it with the revisions and the good news.

In The South 1852 (School Project)

From the viewpoint of a white girl...
The dark girls call my house ''The Big House". They tell me I'm lucky to live here. I have dolls and baby carriages. I have plenty of food and water and sweet treats when I ask politely, but I have no friends. Mommy won't let me play with the dark girls, she gets mad when I even talk to them. She tells me they're uncivilized, then makes me sit and cross-stitch or play the piano, then sends me up to me room to play dolls by myself. I've seen them outside my window: running and laughing together with their friends, and yet, they call me lucky.


From the viewpoint of a slave...
All day and sometimes part of the night, we toil in the fields working, plowing, and picking, endlessly. Everyday we rise before the sun to be met by the whip, each forced to work harder than 2 white folk could possibly manage, punished harshly if we cannot. Scars write the story across my back. My story of tears, of pain, of wickedness and prejudice, my story of imprisonment, of back-breaking labor, of hard times and troubles. My scars tell the story of slavery.

Stop the Sun (School Project)

Nothing but blackness,
Darkness surrounding me.
My eyes portraying the world as empty,
My ears painfully assuring otherwise
When the sounds of gunfire shatters the silence.
Screams break free as mortars strike;
Chaos increases to a point of climax,
Then dies down to lifeless, fatal silence.

They're coming for me;
When the night vanishes, surely they will arrive.
The sun must not rise;
The sun must not come up;
I must keep dawn from coming
Only then will I be safe, only then will I survive

But as always, it came,
Beginning with a faint gray,
Turning to a gentle glow of despair
They were there
And although they didn't harm my body,
I died all the same...
We couldn't do it,
We failed to stop the sun.

(This is a poem about the Veitnam war. I got the idea from a story called Stop the Sun that we read at school, and so I wrote it for extra credit because I liked the details in the story and it made me feel like writing about it)