self-discovery

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This is going to be a problem I think as I stare across the room on the third floor Eyeing the last tenant to enter the apartment. She’s nothing like what I’ve seen before Her hair,
I am not her, Not my past, Nor a name.   I am not the order Of the stars, Or the gods of the months, Or the beasts that follow the moon.   Our value no more than
I’m so..sad All my life I’ve never been satisfied With me Abuse and control seizing my quiet soul I couldn’t let go   Rest ripped from me  I fought fathers for a lifetime
I am not the girl my mother made.  That creature breathes no more, is as dead as the cracked dirt on an expanse of desert in Arizona,  which I have yet to see myself.  That girl exists in two dimensions; she 
Map
I am wandering down a river bed Without a map in my hand  Or a plan thought up I saw the water drifting and Floated along with it   Sometimes our attempts to escape reality
for so long you've been sinking belly full of stones i press my lips to yours with the notion that breathing outward might send you upward  but somehow accidentally i breathe in
If I were to whisper into the depths of the deepest soul,  Would my voice be heard?  Should I venture into the darkest crevice of human spirit, Would I be lost? 
Surrounded by laughs and smiles While I just listenOnly my ears are openSealed lips shut Words can’t be spoken
Spoken Intro: “All of a sudden, it’s like you’ve become aware of your own existence, how unwhole you are. And you’re constantly being reborn... Again... And again... And again... And again.
12/28/2016 As flesh clad together turn in my mind, Something I’ve abstained from and so I find,
Who am I? What comes to mind, when I say hi? How is it that you feel, when you find out it’s me? Are you sad or happy whenever you see me? Do I make or mar your day? Does it feel good when I stay?
I realized where my  passion lies and through open eyes I saw the prize. I'd go back to school to gain the tools necessary for me to fuel the vehicle of which I'll drive and strive to thrive until I arrive
Swimming in a sea of skin I only felt her warm hand fingers laced through mine like sutures binding a wound allowing it to heal.
I found out myself. Who I am inside for real. Twenty-Sixteen man.  
I apologize My self-consciousness is heavy My pride is immesive And as the years go on, my happiness has only gotten more expensive  For you, and only you.
I go in search of the magicians the ones that still chant abracadabra three times an ancient trilogy revived   I go in search of hope for tomorrow; where wild tiger lilies grow tall,
I dreamed of jumping beyond the realms of dirt and pavement-- to soar as far as the wind could take me. So I leapt. But once I reached that farthest point--the spot I once desired most, I came back.
Golden sunset lemons, twinkly sliced unlike the first time I ran my pen, and eyes, dry. Puckers and sighs against a luminescent sky-- only dreams back then, something to imagine.
The "damsel in distress" no longer has a romance to it not to me shut up, I won't shut up I mean, it's not my fault I have purple butterfly wings that no-one sees It's not my fault I'm the moon
It’s unimaginable that I may be slightly capableon my own to express how I feel. The simple, heart-wrenching thought that I can’t speak on my ownis like a never ending, constantly turning wheel.
  She has fire in her veins, and venom in her heart. She is cool, calm, and collected But when you cross paths with her She can be your nightmare.  
away from the sun i wander from insignificant moments i change ages i yearn for the Unknowable all things Invalid   into the night i tread
count your experiences as my own. Remembering in your youth, when you had too many men, and you could pick and choose. Sleeping around then, but now you side preach Abstinence from
I watched the darkness; dissolving, morphing, quickly receding from the fruity light, as if rejected medicine.   Left behind for an identical,
I am enigma, 
I am a wave Part of the ocean Floating high, floating low And sinking When I crash My highs are So high I give God A high-five My lows are So low I'm not even in existence
Upon the beds of my frozen lake Where my roses were left to sleep She lay In the meadows of my broken hopes And dreams that never came true She sat She heard his voice She heard my voice
Who is the girl b
Who is the girl behind the camera you might inquire I am not even so sure myself as to who I am  I might be someone else,  or something else,
Golden brown hair cascades down her shoulders In rivulets of a sand-storm future And her dusty brown eyes outlined in charcoal Pierce through your mind as if she knows what you’re thinking.  
Who do I want to be?  A very complicated question. First, I suppose,I want to be a girl that's not lost in her own sea One that isn't conflicted with self repression I want to be one filled with laughter 
So beautifully flowing, so sporadically chaotic, so miraculously conjoined, the fact of existance, so matter-of-fact, as we live to simply not be. Nothing may begin if there be no end,
Once upon a time I dreamed of butterbees in winter snow, A harrowing adventure Meant to age my mind and save my soul.   I dreamed and dreamed and dreamed Until my vision greyed and greyed,
“We become aware of the void as we fill it.”                                                                                                                                            -Antonio Porchia                
Give me a hero and I'll show you his sin. Show me a victor,  I'll explain why he can't win. Present a success, And I'll unveil the flaws. Show me innocence, And you'll be scratched with hidden claws.
A sea of faces, multicolored pencil cases
This life is all I have ever known from its difficulties and blessings to the people met over time and the tight knit family I have.   And you may criticize me all you want
The cave fish swim Round and round Going nowhere Blind in the dark   Most have no eyes But one fish sees Sees the blackness Feels the hopelessness   The fish with eyes
This is what you've done to me. You started to teach me as a child, In rooms of bright colors and toys, Rooms that smelled of crayons and grubby fingers,
  Remove from me this veil that hides the reflection of my soul. As the grey ivy cloaks the mirror, my knife escapes me. The wolf inside me howls for air. My amber heart cannot live in such bondage.
A poet does not rhyme with words. She rhymes a feeling to a memory, a thought to a touch. This flower rhymes with her eyes. The wind chimes rhyme with her voice. that drifting leaf rhymes with her spirit.
What is Briana Scott? Young, beautiful, thoughtful, quiet, self-conscious, determined, creative...Lost.  I don't really know what I'm supposed to be doing  with this life of mines.
Yes, that’s me. Look and you’ll see. My hair is as straight as the speed of light. My eyes are as sparkling as my philosophy of stars. My arms, reaching for cures for my aching heart.
Essences of my thoughts Cascade across eyelids like Galaxies resting on weathered smiles. Mouths are shackled by broken Hinges of misunderstanding; An unaware psyche. Embalmed mannequins positioned in a
I want to move to Seattle Where it rains Where thunderstorms thrive on the dampness of wet, tear-stained cheeks I want to be just one cappuccino away from rolling back to bed
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