Express Yourself

For quite a few years I have turned to writing (both in creative writing and journal keeping) to express myself, my feelings, my struggles, my random thoughts, and whatever comes out.  Most people, even myself, would first think I would turn to music to express myself, which I do, but sometimes it's better for me to not express myself through music, which probably doesn't make sense to anyone but me...
When a friend of mine told me about a writing website that some of our other friends had started, I realized that I would finally have a place to put all of my works. Even if I would be the only person to really visit the site, knowing that it was still out in the open for others to access gave me a sense of voice, like I didn't have to hold in all of my emotions, but that I could release my inner self one piece at a time.  Although I don't view myself as a great author, I still find joy and comfort in getting all of my sick (not "cool," but actually disturbed and disease-stricken) thoughts out on a page, and eventually on the web for others to stumble upon occasionally.
If you're really in the bored and stalking mood, you're free to peruse the website that I eventually became part-owner of, here.  (The link leads directly to my main portion of the website, but you're welcome to browse the rest of the creative site, I assure everything on there is fabulous.)

Share your thoughts!
How do you express yourself?
How has expressing yourself in your own way helped you or others understand you?

Have a smiley day!!

Homeless

"Homeless"

No one would expect a classroom to be a home. 

Yet in one extraordinary classroom, a family is born: 

with loving mother, and plenty of eager, excited children.

Happiness and love flourish, and beauty is created.

But nobody really realizes it is their home until suddenly it is

gone. It is taken away, repossessed. No more will the gentle

woman come out of her office to the jokes and cacophony of

music. No longer will the older siblings enter.

No longer will laughter, playing, love, or joy be allowed.

Instead, the children find it to be cold and deserted, not by choice,

but because it is the law.

No longer does it feel filled with music, and growing, and bonding.

There is no unity, for each of the children left must find another

home. No, instead there is silence and a Hawk, dictating all

elements of the classroom.

No longer do I feel welcome.

No longer do I view it as my home.

No longer do I even wish to return, for the memories of what

use to be and what could have been thrash me into a despair

for hope of love that will never be again.

No longer.

***

Senior year of high school. Don't most people love this year? Isn't this the party year? The year where I can just ride the rails until the day of graduation, and just have the time of my life? Only three days into the year, and already I feel as if I would accept not graduating just to get out of school. It has been some of the roughest days of school I've had to endure, and it is anywhere near to being finished. I wrote this poem to express but one struggle I'm facing at school currently: the fact that I have no real home now. And it feels like no family. I see my friends and music family maybe once or twice a day, just in passing mostly. And all because we've been kicked out of our home and way of life, and it hurts.