Slave Of The Mind.

And she held her breathe,

she dove deep within her mind.

Swam to the bottom of her lucid thoughts.

She slipped past the dark memories and the grey moments in her life.

She surfaced to the beautiful place of peace within her mind.

A place where the anger that existed in her life, was not a part of her world.

A location that passion for living was all it was.

She felt the slipperyness of this spot, as it slithered from her finger tips.

No, not reality. Not punishment. Please, no where close to it.

She tumbled back into her liquid nightmares and thoughts.

She fought off her demons and her depression.

She wished to have held on to her loved ones in life.

The dark moments in life gnawed at her hands, making them raw.

The barking voices of authority and slavery whipped her back, leaving it torn to bits.

She reminisced the tragedy of life. Her life.

The severe punishment of having to be torn from freedom of her body and mind was excruciating.

Her hell on earth belonged to her masters. Her owners, she was just property.

She prayed to someone she began to lose faith in. The devil was her boss, the one that worked her in the fields.

Insanity wasn't an option anymore. She was a drone.

The only time she escaped was when she was sleeping. When she could dream.

Remembering the time her Pappy owned a ranch, the time her mama would cook giant meals for her family. Her and her cousins would play in the fields.

what sweet dreams.

Now, it was all different though.

Her master owned her ranch. Her mama cooked giant meals for the masters. Her cousins were all sold. And she worked her field by picking the cotton.

Now where was her life going to go? What would death bring her?

peace? joy? perhaps.

But although she was a slave of her mind,

although her body was enslaved; she was not ready.

Not ready to accept death.

She would let her real freedom come, whether it be in life or in death.

Whether it be underground, or up above. She would survive somehow.

** A day in school always affects what i write. I learn new stuff, perhaps research in it a little and then i got it all set up in my head. I enjoy writing poetry with a story. Something that makes a person think about more about my character. What is the slave girl's story? Does she have family? What is done to her? How is she so strong? What happens to her in the end? Does she die on the ranch? Does she escape through the underground railway?

Well, maybe that's only me that thinks like that when it comes to my own poetry. I will b writing full stories soon enough :) .

With my Gun, This is Done.

Foolish people! A unity of idiots!

Take my Word!

You possess these thoughts of love and justice? HA!

Are you people that blind? I ramble and rant like this for a reason.

Your Stupid thoughts, chilidish ones i assure you, are overrun by your ever so

"trustworthy systems".

They are the opposite of your false, fake, faithful foolish thinking.

Love?

Justice?

Take a Look Around!

It does not exist! Observe the children with their rifles, holding it to their father's head.

Gaze at the 10 year old girl, being sexually abused by a soldier- once a family friend.

Now tell me dimwits; Where is your "Love and Justice"?

Sloth-like movements from the likes of you people. You wish and do nothing about it. This is not an act of God or perhaps not even the Devil. Blame yourselves.

This is an act of Man.

So I raise my metallic wand, which bonds me with thiis destruction. I finish with taking part of it rather than fighting it. This discussion leads to nowhere.

With my Gun,
This is Done.

** Thankfully, I am blessed with a safe home and trusting people, so far. I wrote this on behalf of Free the Children, something my school has been partaking in for quite some time i think. I joined FTC at first, mostly as a goal. A goal which had nothing to do with the cause itself. I wanted to join something at least once before i left highschool. And while i was there i learned about statistics and i saw pictures. But not only that has made me twitch and feel shame, but movies that have to do with such issues. I hate it.

30 billion dollars is all it takes to save the world. WTF are u people wasting your money on? These Police academy waste millions. Thes major companies, BILLIONS. Where are all the people that are concerned for the well being of others. I know we have requirements and necessities in life that need attending to. Duh! I'm not an idiot. But powerful people of this world are doing shit all to help those that are starving, that are needing attention. Those 4,8,12 year olds which are suffering grief and war and pain.

I am only one of the many people that rant and are determined to do something when im more capable.

God willing, when i become a journalist/writer, i will travel to those places in Africa, Asia and help those in need.

What r you going to do? Sit there, feeling bad? Or are u going to speak up?

Are u going to eat your food, not really worrying whats happening outside of your house?

Or, are you gonna take action, get out there, send food to those who need it?

I feel like i'm already doing something trying to get the message out there, what are you going to do?

Mourn

She mourns a something sorrowful.

A pain on her heart, and so she sings.

Dressed like a princess of the night,

the icy dark forest in which she spreads her music.

A painful feeling held within each note, causing grief to angels,

making the fierce wind embrace her torn porcelain skin.

Her heart mourns.

Her lungs capture.

Her eyes glisten.

Her lips quiver.

Her voice reaches.

Soprano, Acapella.

Falsetto, Forte.

Harmony.

Wait....not harmony.

Where is the harmonyin this nostalgic fallen angel? Her eyes reflect

the hypnotic effect this ache has introduced to her.

Her song was once of joy, when he was a part of her life.

Before the battle, when he was alive.

Her song is now of mourn, and she sings into the morn.

The dawn, a fearful sight, showing her the light and joy of others.

So she waits until dusk; until it is black night.

For her travels always take her back to that icy forest.

Her mind and voice travel throughout its stillness.

Singing beautifully, Singing mournfully.

Singing the last lovely tune she sung to him

before he had left.

Before He was gone.

Before she was gone.

I wrote this in my writer's craft class after watching Sarah Brightman. While others found her weird, what with the opera movements of the hands and whatnot...I was jealous. She was dressed in this beautiful Black dress, and she looked like a princess. But her song sounded sad, so of course sad princess. So I of course had to post it because- Duh! Original Christine Daae (Phantom of the opera) was the inspiration...

Enjoy, :D

Choices in life

Old or young.

Bachelor or married.

Mister or Misses.

Making a choice in your life is always altering. Isn't that insane? Isn't that scary?

Like honestly, think about it...Someone can decide to take a major highway which can lead you into a car accident or, a small route where u can get lost or stranded. Perhaps, the purpose we have choices to make in life is so God or the Devil have something to read in the funnies. Am I making any sense? I think I am.

Two people who take a role in choices, I believe, and add a little irony. It's like a recipe. Have you ever thought what kind of day you would have if you did something differently? Like If you had avoided the homeless guy begging for money, you would have money to buy a can of pop. Or if it was the other way around, if you gave the guy money...that you would see him with liquor.

I don't know why i'm having these thoughts...well kinda. No i lie. I do know why. I guess considering this is my last year of high school (WOOT WOOT!!!) i'm starting to feel the pressure. College, University, Career, Money, Lifestyle, Love...Life. *WELCOME TO THE TWILIGHT ZONE*

No no no. Welcome to Reality. It's something that's very overwhelming when u think about it. But no so much when u live it - well, depending on the results right?

Now what worries me sometimes is what happens if u don't learn from other peoples choices? Can you end up going down the same old worn-out path? Follow the same mistakes, the same route. I am not going to lie, I don't want that at all.

I just wish, that some paths in life came with a map. U know, "if you pick this path and make a right, then success is Yours! If u pick that one...well you can just imagine what's down there hahaha." But no, to simple haha, Obiviously. It's more like, if you take that path its only gonna lead u to another fork in the road and another and another and another and...sigh* well u get the picture i guess.

And then of course come the obstacles.

Where is that GPS system when u need one?

That's when i knew

I remember still, in Grade 1 when they used to ask us what we wanted to be. I would say stuff, like a babysitter (and now im not so crazy about little kids, only my neices). Or a lifeguard ( I can't swim in the deep end, i have a phobia). Or even an astronaut ( absolutely terrible at Math and physics).

I remember, one day, in grade 5, i wrote a story about a princess and her prince. Her love was neverending and the story was just very cute. No other way of putting it. But wait. I could not have written that ever! Well, at least thats what my librarian/teacher thought.

Mrs. Capibianco claimed that i copied it. She made me so upset and yet a bit smug. A well deserved mark. Perhaps almost perfect. But no no, i had to rewrite it. But of course she asked me, " And if u wrote it yourself, what gave u the idea?" I remember staring at her thinking, "This lady cannot be serious. She actually thinks i copied it." So i told her the truth. "I got the idea from a picture of a princess and her prince. It gave me tons of ideas." She peered at me over her glasses. She wanted to challenge me. So she told me to write another one.

I was worried! I was like, maybe this was a once in a lifetime kind of thing. Maybe i can't do it again. So, with my head hanging low i sat down behind the cutest boy in class, Daniel Francheschetti. As i stared around, i couldn't help but stare at the logo on the back of his jacket, which had a cowboy on it.

....hmmm...cowboys....THAT'S IT!

I wrote about the first cowgirl, another wonderful piece of writing! Christ sophie, stop copying from other people.

THATS RIGHT FOLKS! She blamed me again for copying something, so of course my mom got involved.

But after that, i knew it was time to accept it. I loved to write. I was good at it. I felt my hand throb everytime i had that urge to write.

So now i wish to pursue my career in writing. I figured why not get into journalism, although its just a stepping stone to what i want to do. And that is write books. God willing, i will be able to do what i want. I can't wait. :D

2 weeks

It has been exactly 2 weeks since Boris passed away. I get a shiver every friday night remembering the phonecall i recieved from Brittney, telling me that he got shot. I remember the phonecall i received as i drove down to my old neighbourhood that he had passed away.

His parents are getting ready to leave, I saw Boris's ashes on wedensday. He's in a nice Gold sealed box, engraved in all. No doubt in my mind, Boris thinks he's balling hahaha...

On the day of his viewing on ever persons cellphone, a picture of the suspect was being passed around. As i told you folks before i went to school with him. Very shocking. A lot of people were angry, confused and in denial.

My friend Boris has a group on face book with 1,648 members. Some people to defend the suspect saying " Oh no, but it couldn't have been him. He's too nice." BULLSHIT! I'm not going to lie, this is pissing me off as well. Boris wasn't killed by a nice guy. And ugh...alright folks let me show you what i think about this guy.

I understand that these people defending him are his good friends, grew up with him and whatnot. But what they need to realize is that this guy was involved.

I highly doubt the 22 division would pick a name out of a hat and say, hey lets blame this guy for 2nd degree murder. Yes, cuz that is exactly how the system works. They go the guys face on camera. Theres one obvious piece of evidence. Next, he admitted in taking part of it why?

Bcuz that night, Boris had a gun held to his head by the very same guy they caught. He got tasered by boris out of self defense, becuz boris had a broken arm. And guess what folks? THIS GUY HAS TASER MARKS ON HIS NECK! So tell me how these people are saying, oh even though he was there he didn't do it so it doesn't matter. Of course it matters!?!?

He took part in a crime, a crime that got taken too far, rashly. Incredible how stupid these people are, how much they are in denial. But i guess my mom was right.

In every argument or situation there are 2 sides. For and against. Agreement or disagreement.

Some people have called Boris stupid for having a taser in the first place, they call him a dumb little wigger for trying to fight a guy with a gun.

So many people feel wounded by the fact that there is a "FREE NAHOOR" group. I felt angry, really angry. That isn't fair. These little thugs live by some stupid ass code, "Don't snitch". Listen if u are scared of what can happen to your family and to yourself why the fuck are u getting involved with such people. The kind of people that can't help but live a life of crime?

How foolish. How ridiculous. How sad. I can't help but think that this guy feels no remorse for what he was involved in. Like honestly think about it. This guy is an accomplice to a murder of a youth over something stupid. If he had a bit of remorse, he would speak up? Or am i in the wrong here?

Are all 1,648 people standing by boris after death really fighting a lost cause? I hope not. My brother in heaven, My best friend, he needs this justice. And if not him. Well shit, then his parents. Its only fair. Cuz one thing that isn't fair; is the way Boris's life was taken.

But one thing that i do disagree with, is the facebook wars. Oh thats right there is such a thing. It's when people have a heated discussion on a discussion board which leads to something controversial, upsetting, sometimes (if it gets to that point) life threatening.

So ridiculous.

I don't know why i do it to myself, but i can't help but check the discussion board.

Boris, don't be upset with ur friends, i hope u know that they are just upset with everything that has been happening.

I just hope this gets solved.

Can't...sleep

My clock ticks, my mom sleeps.

I don't.

My dog whimpers as she chases squirrels in her dreams.

I can't dream.

My friends go to school feeling brand new, ready for the world.

I feel dead tired, not the least bit prepared for what is outside my door.

As some go to bed, with happy thoughts, wishful thinking and peace.

I lay in bed, uncomfortable under the covers, in my clothes. Thinking about the stress, the doubts the fears, the uneasiness i've had to get accustomed to.

As some have all their friends and family, only losing some to sickness or old age.

I have a somewhat broken family, and i lost a best friend to gun violence. He was too young.

I had this problem in the summer too. not being able to sleep until 5 or 6 in the morning. but now,

now its just frickin ridiculous. How is this possible?

Going back to the nauseous feeling, of a restless night. A tired mind, a weak body.

I'm 17 damn it! i'm too young for this crap. Insomnia...can this b it?

Well, i eventually fall asleep, but thats at like 5 in the morning and the thing that sucks about that is that i'm going to school.

I got a schedule to stick to and im failing at that. I can't fail. I can't sleep though.

Can't, Can't CAN'T!

I hate that word, but that's the only word to describe this restlessness. Can't sleep, Can't stop thinking, Can't relax, can't stop feeling sad. Can't do it.

I stay awake, i hear the birds, i hear the traffic get heavier, i see the sky clear. Shit.

I can't sleep, i can't stand the nausea of staying up, or the low bio rhythms. No energy.

And no matter how hard i try, I CAN'T FUCKING SLEEP.

sigh*.....can u see how frusturated im getting :? this is so ugh. stressful.

Have u ever suffered a restless night? If u've only had it once or twice, imagine having it every night. Imagine knowing that you going to bed, is just failure all in itself. Because u know very well, all your gonna do is lie in that bed, stare at different spots in your room every 5 minutes. As if someone put something there during the day to keep you interested. And see, what i hate about that crap is...staring into the dark.

I always end up seeing things come out of the dark, or i imagine the worst so i close my eyes but not sleep. Because..i'm scared? No. i'm terrified? ha...maybe. Or maybe bcuz i try to prove myself wrong, that i wait for the room to light up. Shit. i was laying in my bed, for almost 45 mins . Not sleeping, but mentally pacing.

UGH...is this insomnia? is this chronic insomnia? or acute insomnia?

or what do u call it when its just borderline? but the way it happens to me...hey man, if thats borderline, i feel really bad for those that can't sleep at all.

I am soo sorry buddy, i feel for u.

The power of Music

Well, i woke up today and seeing as how i don't have cable, the internet is my commercial free televison. So as i'm chatting away on MSN and on facebook and on the phone. Yes i just love to socialize. And while this is all happening, my itunes is open and playing my recently added music. Bone Thugs n Harmony, Nas, Alicia Keys, Red Hot Chili Peppers, ColdPlay, Lil wayne. Yes, i also love variety.


I realize how powerful music is over someone. I can just imagine how cliche my name sounds. OOOooo the power of Music. But there is no other way of putting. Bcuz music does have a lot of power over a person. It can suit your mood or it can change ur mood. It can make u feel empowered, or it can sooth you. It can pump u up, or make u feel down. It's just that powerful that it can alter your moods.





Oh, another power it contains. It can bring out the best in people. Yes, crazy right? How one may ask? Well talk to someone who paints, or writes or acts or does something artistic. Music inspires, relaxes the mind, lets the words flow. Let's that brush dance on that canvas. Let's that pen create on that paper. Ha ha i love it!





But wait, not all the power of music contains such positive results. Hm, yes i think you know what else im referring to. "Damn that Rap music!" hahahaha...well its not only rap music of course.


These lovely tunes, that talk about slitting and killing which are followed by gutteral screaming, and screeching guitars. Yes i'm sure the 13 and 14 year olds that discover this kind of music don't get influenced at all right. Which is why i wonder, if artists that put out this kind of music know what it does to kids, why do they keep on doing it? Could it be greed? Come on, all these angst teens need this. Of course we will encourage this angry teenage facade. Idiots.
Making money, off kids who have anger towards their family and society. Making money off kids that wish to disappear. Making money off kids who end up dying bcuz of listening to their music. Suicide folks, music can have something to do with that shit too.

But rap music, although i listen to it, it does not influence me or have power over me the way it does for some of these little "thugs". They go out into the street, trying to get their grind on, or fucking shoot up people. Hey if all these people make money this way and rap about it, it can't b that bad. WRONG. It's not okay, it's not right, it is definitley not legit. So these kids need to relax, take a breather and realize that rappers don't always mean what they talk about. they aren't really trying to push these little punks into being stupid. Although for some that's just it, an army of violent naive kids holding a gun. I don't even know man.
That's why i love that song "Stan"-Eminem. Cuz it just goes to show u a bit of truth within the rap industry. They don't all mean, b angry wit the world. It's just an...agressive form of art i guess. :S i don't know how though hahaha.
Oh well.
All i know is that the grasp of music on people's mind is great, whether it increases your IQ, like classical music. Or drops it, like some rap or goth rock.
But that's just the power of Music.

Hard To Accept This Loss

Came home today, from a calm weekend with my best friend and her parents.One of the most calmest weekends ever and yet, i still couldn't help but think about my friend Boris. Boris Cikovic, croatian, goodlooking, super funny and dead. Got shot.

No longer here. God i keep on saying it, but its just never going to register. Like, i know he's gone, but i swear it just feels like hes on vacation. I can say, i know im never going to see him again but, is that for real?

Is he never going to be drinking with my other crazy friends? Is he never going to b going home from scarlett with my best friends, brittney and Uros? Is he never going to be my friend and just b there?

I keep on trying to sleep, but every little sound wakes me. Nevermind every little sound, up at my friends cottage, in our room that damn clock! I could hear it ticking and i swear the ticking would get louder and louder and louder (as if it was Big ben or something) then it would go really quiet. As if it was being muffled by a pillow. And all i could think about was all the good times i had with my best friend. I can't cry anymore about it, even though sometimes i feel like there is a giant hole in my chest. Its not fair man.

Alot of my friends, were angry with God. Me? ...Not really.I was of course (and still am) more angry with the people that actually shot Boris. But if anything i was more confused about why he let this happen. And then my mom told me something, that i think calmed me down a bit (along with her super "knock-a-horse-on-their-ass" sleeping pills) that

God lends parents there children, and he knows when is it that they are going to pass. But he doesn't decide how is it that they die. I am 17 years old, and when it comes to beautiful sad thoughts like that, i can't help but believe them.

Oh man

that night was so shit for me. Boris passed away friday. I took half a sleeping pill. KA-BOOM! K.O!

Saturday, i was talking to my friend melvin...wait..not talking..crying. there we go. Crying on the phone, with melvin. He got tired, and wanted to go to bed. As soon as he did, i felt so alone. I began to sob uncontrollably. I went to my mom's room, going back to that 8 yr old sophie, who can't help but sleep with her mom, because she is scared of the dark. Scared of being alone.

I was rubbing my eyes, nose all red, lips super puffy, and my chest heaving. I lost my friend. I needed to cry. so my dad moved out of the bed i dug my head into the mountain of pillows on my mom's bed and wailed my little lungs out. She hugged me and soothed me and all i could say was " I don't understand...hes dead. hes gone. i just..don't understand"...she passed me a glass of water, with this fairly large pill. I swallowed it, followed by water which i - of course- choked on. Got under the covers, and the wailing went to bawling, sobbing, getting quieter. tearing.

numbness. those fricking pills man, made me so dead. i wanted to say goodnight to my mom and dad, but my eyes were crossing. apparently all i was saying was "Mom...i dont know..i dont know.." finally i wanted to say goodnight to Boris. But i drifted.

Friday, october 3rd at 10:40...my friend was gunned down in a park, where he was drinking with his friends, over a $2 fucking tote bag, with a t-shirt and 2 beers inside. He died on the way to the hospital. The bullet went through his abdomen, through his liver. destroying his pancreas. I lost my friend to the most stupidest violent act, over the stupidest shit. I swear, im stronger than most, but im still weak.

And u wanna know what else is really fucked up? Out of the three or four guys that approached him. the one they caught, went to my school last year...

I just want to b able to say good-bye, give him a hug. a kiss, tell him i love him. thats all. I wish i could have appreciated last time we chilled a bit more. But i can't now...I see him in my dreams, but he never speaks to me, hes just in the background. I think i want him to talk to me, but im scared...even as i type this i feel that hole aching. He was so beautiful, and his ending was so tragic and unfair. I just want him to know i am never going to forget him. I want to get his name tatted on my body. Cuz losing him taught me the most valuable lesson i've learnt so far- treasure all the good things in life, bcuz u never really know what it is u have until its taken away from u.

R.I.P BORIS C.

02/22/91-10/03/08

Too many, restless nights thinking about this loss. Wondering if this is real. I still think its a dream.