Trust Me With My Actions

Her heart was in a state so poor,
With shattered pieces laying about the floor.

Whence a strange thing occurred.
She thought, surely, her vision must be obscured.

So she wiped away all her tears,
To see with the knowledge of all her years,

A sight she knew could not exist to meet. . .
Still, within her soul she felt a faint beat.

A breathless being
For reasons they are not seeing. . .

Your belief that there is no good in bad,
Is truly begining to make me quite sad. 

We all judge, I too am guilty I'm sure,
But even after further explanation your feelings did not stir.

I have had enough I swear!
Your disapproval I cannot stand to bear!

So now I will write
With all my power and might,

All things I hold tightli a secret within my very soul,
As if into a looking glass, or a rather immense bowl.

All I ask before I start,
Is that you keep something open inside your heart. . . 

The Light No One Else Can See

I know you know me, so why can't you see? It's so bright this light I can see. I've been so lost, so confused, so hurt and broken. Now I've found something that is truly real, so real I can feel it, but you can't even see it. Can you even see me?

Yes I can see you. You shine brighter than the stars, your future defined, your dreams endless, and your chances solid.

Then how can you not see him?

He doesn't look like you.

Tell me, what is it that you see instead?

I see his angry scowl.

You don't see his smile?

Surely he does not smile through the madness of his own ways.

You're blind, you only to see his anger. I can see his cheeks broad and flexed upward in a grin so wide and proud.

Pride? (scoff) He has nothing to take pride in.

I think he has more than you think, after all we all strive for something. We take pride in the purely true things we do to get these things, and I see his honest work.

It doesn't count if he wastes it, you fool! Can't you see that?

I do see that, but it doesn't count if he doesn't see that. What if that is not his purpose?. . . I can see that.

Well, what's his purpose then?

He desires something else that all people desire, to fit in. What if that's where he fits in, can you truly deprive him of that?

I can see there are other places that he could have chosen for himself, better places.

I can see how you would think that. We all have places we belong but sometimes they are intertwined and laced together, not separate.

I don't see any good places in his world now.

Yes you do.

I see no place!

You see me. . .

Just Know That I Love You

Ok so this isn't really a piece of writing, it's actually a statement to anyone reading my blog, which is absolutely no one. I'm going to start another but it is just going to be posts out of my book, it isn't going to be in order and not all of it as I'm sure you can understand. it will be named 'Just Know that I Love You. " Well I hope you enjoy it, and please let me know if you do!

Growing-up

    We go through 2.5 years of our life thinking highschool is a nightmare. It sucks, we just want to graduate already. Halfway into our Junior yearwe realize that wht we really wan tis to go back to kindergarten. Then another fourth of our Junior year goes by and it finally dawns on you that you changed your mind. It went in the opposite direction, and you never even knew it.You are going into the real world. For real. You're parents have been hounding you, "you need to be more responsible, grow-up, act your age! You're not going to be able to handle college." and you brush it off. Yeah, yeah, yeah. You are completely convinced that they are underestimating you Then it hits you like a stinking cinder-block falling from the sky and landing on your darn pride. They were right all along. Infact, they were so right that they might even be wrong. We realize that they underestimated just how unprepared you truly are. You know, in that moment, that you do NOT want to graduate. Granted, yes, we all want the success, but what about wanting what you've got?. . .What about what you're losing? Your bestfriend, all of your friends, that safe place we like to call home. I don't mean the house you live in either. I'm talking the halls, lockers, streets and sidewalks, sites and sounds, even smells, and the absloute comfort that comes with it. That god darn cinder-block tells you that you are never going to have all of these things together ever again, even if you do stay. It's like a piece of your being, your life, your frail little heart just dies.Now you just need to grieve, but how do we grieve for our life? Is it eve possible? I think not. . . We will always miss highschool.

Blood and Rumors

Whisper, whisper, this and that
Choke, cough, pitter pat.
No one told me, I just know.
What dangerous seed he did sew.

Goes in one ear and stays inside,
His red puddle never dried.
You believe it, now it will grow,
At the same, crimson does flow.

As the plot thickens,
His heart beat quickens.
The one died at her ears,
He did, with their tears.

Our World

Our World

Life burns,
Time goes on,
Water crumbles,
Love lies,
Hope runs,
Earth goes by,
Dreams are gone with the wind,
Freedom is fake,
Air isn't free,
Humanity kills. . .
But the moon, will always reflect
Off the shining sun . . . and so-
Fire ends.

Mountain Lion

Slinks high, leaps across,

Hides upon branches, predator

Yellow slits stare. . . Prey.

Lily

Black freckles blossom

Lime stretched, the white light flowers. . .

Fairy's slumbered dream.

A Soldier's Boots

Terminal,

Lined full even though,

None know for whom we wait.

His boots carry him finally home. . .

Daddy.

Hello

Well hello to anyone who is reading this, this is my first blog and I'd like to tell you a little bit about me and a bit about my blog. First off, my name is Elizabeth Brown and I am seventeen. I have this dream, and some people might think it's silly but I don't, in fact it's one of the few things I take seriously, since I like to joke all the time. I don't really know how to achieve it but I'm going to start with a blog. You see, I want to be a writer. I don't want to be a journalist, not that I'm not good at writing non-fiction articles, I just don't like it. I want to write novels. I want to write novels that become classics and are made into movies and are translated in twelve different languages. Some have asked me why I want to write, and the answer is simple. I want to write because I want to be able to create emotion in people. I want to be able to make them happy or sad, cry or smile, even laugh. I know for a fact that I can do this, but I want the world to see. right now I feel like I'm a small child in a big world, and I'm trying to scream out but no one can hear me. Please, help me get my message out to the world. . . .

Thank You,
Elizabeth G. Brown