Cat

A cat is someone special, so furry and so kind.
Their warm fluff is so snuggley and
that's what's on my mind.

Their eyes can be like lemons,
yellow beyond compare.
Their eyes can be like emeralds,
like some fancy people wear.

Cats do lots of sleeping,
it takes up lots of time,
and in the poems I have read,
they're all supposed to rhyme.

Cats have little whiskers,
tails and noses to,
and they like to "meatloaf",
but not like the kind that's food.

Thoughts

WARNING: THESE ARE DEEP, POSSIBLY ANGERING THOUGHTS. IF YOU ARE IN THE MOOD FOR SOMETHING HAPPIER,PLEASE READ MY POEM FLOWER, OR YOU COULD READ KIWI, OR POSSIBLY EVEN WINGS. HOWEVER,THESE THOUGHTS MAKE A GOOD POINT, AND COULD BE POTENTIALLY LIFE CHANGING (IN A GOOD WAY) SO WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, THOUGHTS...

   ...Like dropping rose petals down a well, waiting for the splash. But rose petals don't splash. They never will. I suppose that is kind of like life. We expect to be doing something, to get something, to go somewhere in life. But maybe we are all just running on a treadmill. It way feel as though we are running somewhere, moving, but really we are all running in place.

At the start of my school year, I was told to write a paper on what education meant to me. After thinking for quite some time, I found that education was life. Everyday you learn something new,experiment,get lectured,get punished and rewarded. Then, I thought "Wait, so is this question asking me what the meaning of life is?"

I have many theories, but I only want to present one (for now). What if life is a game. What if our souls decide "Hey, you, want to create a character for yourself and play a game?" Maybe all of the people who die say "I don't like this game anymore, it's not fun" or maybe they just rolled the dice wrong and they're "out".  Maybe right now you're saying "How do you know? You're only twelve! You can't  possibly..." and so on and so on. The answer to "How do you know?" is "I don't".
And I don't ask you to believe me. I just simply want to put it out there. There, I said it. Done. Fin.

But anyways, I thought if I told you my reasoning,you might agree with my logic. So if you think about it, what is the point? You are born, you grow, you grow more, you go to school for around eighteen years, (if you include the time it takes to do homework to (yes that does take a year or two) you get a job, you work until you retire, all the while you make choices, and for your reward: You die.
So, to me, it seems like life is a game. You make choices, you take turns, and still the game must end. It always has to end. It will always end the same way. Whether you are rich or poor, happy or sad, old or young. It all seems so pointless.

 But don't go throw yourself off a bridge. I'm simply saying we need to make a change in our society. We as humans are powerful! We can chose our own path, our own road, our own destiny! We Don't Have To Follow The Grain! In fact, go AGAINST the grain! But even so, there are too many questions left to answer, too many "maybe"s in this world. So instead let's just know that we are here. Only YOU can chose what you do with your life! After all, it is yours, isn't it?

LOGAN & RIO

Rio is a yellow lab. He loves to go to King's Deer Golf Club with my dad every day. He lives in my bedroom and tries to eat my pet lizard when I am not at the house. Rio and I  have a really great bonding relationship with each other.

Flower

I am hiding.
I don't want to go outside.
I am alone.
My only friends are worms.
I drink sweet warmth on sunny days,
I feel cool earth beneath my feet,
and still....I am not happy.

I am done being curled up!
Why should I stay inside?
I won't!
The air is warming up!
I strech and yawn.  
I breath for the first time.
I choke on the fresh air.
I am small, this world is big.
The air is still too cold to bare,
I wrap myself in leaves long gone,
and wait 'till Winter's end.

I am taller,
I have grown.
I have left my leafy home.
The air is warm the sun is bright!
My face can feel the sunny light!

I am all grown up.
I am big 
and I am strong.
I reach my arms up to the fading sun.
The time is right,
the seeds are sown.

Now, 'tis Autumn.
Time to rest.

The Winter's cold,
and I am frail.
I won't last another day.
My child leaves my legacy.

I won't last another hour.
This is my story.
I am a Flower.

Kiwi

Do you remember? I do. I sat in a forest in New Zealand.
The sun was in my eyes.
And then a creature approached me,
and to my surprise,
I saw a little bird thing,
 pecking at the ground.
 It pulled up little worms and squirming beetles to.
Then it looked up at me as if asking "What are you?".
 I named it Little Kiwi and we became the best of friends.
I named it Little Kiwi and that's where this story ends.

Wings

To have wings, to sail through the clouds, what a gift! The birds are lucky, the butterflies are free. They soar on graceful wings, gently fluttering on the breeze.

But I am more like a flying fish. It seems like they playfully glide, but really? They are leaping out of their watery world just to catch a breath of air. They dream to fly! But then they realize they have fins. They cannot fly, even if they wanted to (and believe me, they do).

But there is always HOPE. What stops a dream from becoming real? Whatever it is those fish will catch it. And when they do, they will FLY!

Shadow Girl

She is the masked figure behind your emotion.

She is the burn you get from a scorching hot oven,

She is the cool, clean water you run over your singed flesh.

She could be your lover, she could be a hater.  

She reads you like a book and tries to rewrite you in someone new, but comes running back because she hasn't memorized you completely yet.

She is an angel, a devil.

She watches you from the shadows, your best friend, your worst enemy.

She knows all your secrets, all your lies. You know her, don’t you? Think. You know her.