Ava Osborne

A river is still blue even when there’s an ocean 5,000 miles to it’s right,

A star still shines even though there’s other stars with the same glowy hue,

A tree is still admired even when it’s frail and falling,

Caterpillars don’t cry when they see other butterflies,

Because they know that they’ll all grow wings.

Rusty metal is photographed,

Because we’re all ephemeral,

Old people don’t laugh and criticize the heart from 40 years back,

All they want is to be brought back into the past,

“ I never deserved to look at myself the way I did.”

Mirrors don’t cuss or shout at the soul that reflects it,

In fact, the way you talk back to it makes it want to cry,

It’s all in your head, 

Darling, don’t beat yourself up because you’re alive.

The sun doesn’t flare when it’s time to step down,

Even the moon needs rest sometimes,

The song of a bird may seem ordinary,

But to them the ground below is poetry,

Crystals don’t feel jealous when they see a diamond,

Because they still have their own worth,

Paintings don’t feel hate when they see Mr. Gogh,

Because they were all crafted by their own Picasso.

Carved because someone cared enough when she was let go,

She traces her finger on what used to be hers,

She traces her finger on what used to be someone else’s soul,

A name, that stays with her,

When it’s mentioned, she sees it in her eyes,

My mother, my friend,

She prays that she’ll see her again.

And what happens when they go,

And you’re looking back at someone else’s skull,

They used to be what made you want to live in this world,

And now they’re somewhere above it,

And so she sees her when she sleeps,

And her face keeps her up in her dreams,

I love you, I miss you, she writes,

I love you, why’d you have to die?

She wears a black dress and some pearls,

Her heels hurt and it’s the same pair that made her yearn,

For age, for maturity,

But now she’s sitting at a case,

And flowers are sent in a vase,

They’re pink like the color that matched her eyes,

They’re pink like the shoes she wore on a Saturday night,

It’s my favorite color, wait, it only belonged to her,

Because when she looked at her in that mirror, she felt blinded by that beauty that rested in her bones,

But when she looked more clearer, she couldn’t see her anymore.

And what happens when they go,

And you’re looking back at someone you used to know,

You can’t just paint a picture and expect them to reappear,

But you can stare at pictures that you took on this sphere,

They’re somewhere above it,

Don’t you fear,

So she sees her when she sleeps,

And her face keeps her up in her dreams,

She’s afraid to wake, and watch her walk away,

She’s afraid to wake, and see her lips fade,

I love you, I miss you, it’ll all be ok,

But I still want to see you everyday,

I love you, I miss you, write me a letter,

It’ll make it all better,

Close your eyes, and make a wish,

And I’ll blow you a kiss,

And I’ll give you this,

Name on a stone,

Of someone I called home,

Of someone who had so much beauty in their bone,

And why couldn’t she save it,

And why couldn’t I save it,

It’s lost between time and space.

And he sees him when he sees the paper,

And the words make him run away,

As cigarette smoke clogs his nose,

And makes his heart beat and break,

As it reminds him of someone that carried him on his shoulders,

When he hit age two,

But it was too soon,

I could’ve called him sooner,

Name on a stone,

Pick up the phone,

Answer, just one more time,

Answer, just one more question,

What happened during all the wars and battles,

I never knew you had your own,

I never thought you wanted to take your own,

And why couldn’t he save it,

And why couldn’t he save it,

It’s considered fate but it’s never too late,

To look at the stars just to see someone else’s face,

To look at the stars just to see a soul taken away.

And she sees him when she looks at his picture,

He wasn’t always sick,

But when she says his name, it makes her sick,

Because she wonders why she couldn’t save him,

Because now he’s sitting in a case,

And the flowers are rotting away,

But the pain will always stay,

Because the pain came when the beauty was taken away,

That used to lay in someone else’s soul,

That used to lay in someone else’s bones,

Oh, why, couldn’t they stay,

Oh, just to hear them say,

I love you, I miss you, it’ll all be ok,

You’ll always be my home,

Even though you’re living by a stone,

You’ll always be my home,

Because when I say your name, it reminds me of the day I’ll see you again.

It makes me wonder how and why I’m still here,

I’d cry over the sight of the words I’d write,

The letter D was my worst enemy at age five,

As I’d stare at the letter over and over again,

And I couldn’t even hold my pen,

It would fall and drop and I’d feel so defeated,

Such a simple task required so much of me,

And I’d look down at that piece of paper,

Tattered and torn,

And I was so worn out by the worry of never succeeding,

So I’d end the day with some heavy breathing.

A year later,

My parents took me into what was called an Occupational Therapist,

Not someone who could fix your mind,

But someone who could fix “your kind,”

And when she asked me to look at her in the eyes,

I’d fidget and stare at the ground and when she’d snap her fingers,

It made my little heart cry,

I still couldn’t write and I struggled to lift that weight,

And I worried how embarrassed they must be for me,

When I just stood at my un tied tennis shoes and sighed,

My hands would slip from that pencil grip when I attempted to write my name,

And when I finally was able to trace those dots that I could never find their connection,

I still felt so much shame,

I perceived myself as an unsolved case.

And in elementary school,

They tried to figure out what made me lose my cool,

I’d blurt out facts about time and space,

History was the only thing that prevented this kind of ache,

Ask me anything, because I just want to be smart like you,

It was my only escape, my only way that I could prove to myself that I have something that’s worth living inside of my brain,

The pain of other people and the wars they fought,

Was the only thing keeping me from retreating from mine,

But when it was time for the second class,

My mind would go blank, 

My feet would tap,

And my legs would shake,

And I went off somewhere up in space,

Until my teacher would slam my desk,

“ Look at you, you’re such a mess.”

I felt that bullet go right through my head.

They put me in a special class,

One where I was taught how to act,

And when they asked me how I felt,

I told them that I feel stuck in this shell,

I’m here, and everyone else is there,

And all I can ever do is compare,

I just want to look at myself one day,

And feel like I’ve made it and succeeded,

But when my teacher would rip my essay and say it’s useless,

My shaky hand would lay and I began to feel like a mistake.

And finally, in 6th grade,

I was able to twirl and tie,

The laces on my two feet,

But when I tried to speak,

I didn’t have anything to say,

Making friends was a never ending battle,

Because only saying hi only gets you so far,

Because only complimenting a girls shirt or the color of her eyes,

Won’t get you a prize. 

I was put in another class,

Where I learned how to interact,

Because under that mask,

Was a mouth that I didn’t know how to use,

Except when it came for reciting the facts that I read under my bed,

Because that was all my worth and all I knew what to say,

Because that was all I knew how to be,

Except I didn’t even know who I really was,

So I’d look at the images of other people on my phone,

And when I’d go shopping, I’d steal their wardrobe,

My closet changed every three weeks,

When I discovered that this outfit or the new personality trait that I tried to take,

Wasn’t really me,

A new disguise to hide everything I didn’t like,

And that’s when I pushed the books and facts aside.

And as I got older,

Nothing improved,

And even though I succeeded,

I was still that little girl who couldn’t write deep inside,

I’m blind when someone points out something in front of my eyes,

I’m lost when someone tries to explain something to me with such clarity,

And then I’d apologize for being such a pain,

Because even though I have the grades and I’m almost at that age,

I’m still falling very behind,

I spent 3 hours studying just to get that A,

I spent 16 years writing just to barely hold my pen straight,

I feel bad for my teachers for all the times I asked for reassurance,

I feel bad for my parents for all the times I couldn’t find the thing right in front of me,

I even feel bad for myself sometimes,

Because I worry how I’m going to survive,

Such a simple mistake could take my life away,

But I pretend that everything is fine,

But I pretend that I’m alright and above my age,

When they don’t know that I sat in front of that car with such rage,

If only I had the ability to just turn a page,

If only that I had the strength to just focus on what I see,

But there’s always something in my way,

But there’s always something that keeps me away,

And dyspraxia, my dear,

That thing is me.

We need to change,

We can’t wrap our arms around the world but we can give compassion to a stranger,

We can’t wrap our arms around the world, but we should wrap our heads around the idea that we all have the right to be respected,

Accepted,

And worthy of love,

Because world peace is impossible,

But tearing someone else’s life is,

So I ask you,

The future,

To help us,

Because we’re no better than you,

Because we’re still struggling like you,

There’s no love like the way we hate,

But we must learn to love,

Before it’s too late,

So I just want to say,

That we can create a better place,

Where we aren’t scared of a strangers name,

Where we aren’t scared of a certain race,

Where we aren’t scared of a place,

And before we all rest in a grave,

I hope you know that we’re all worth living in this space,

Because none’s heart beats more than yours,

Because no one deserves their heart broken until they decide it shouldn’t,

Because no one deserves to be shunned away,

Because we’re all here because we’ll find a place to stay,

And this poem will be interpreted in different ways,

But I want you to know,

That the world can’t change,

Unless we change too.

The word,

S u r v i v o r,

Has been thrown at me.

And all my life,

I was never kind to myself,

Not because I was told that my scars were ugly,

But because I believed they were,

And that being a survivor meant you were just left with a story you didn’t even know or want to tell,

So I stayed up worrying about the day I could’ve died.

And on the days where I felt so insecure,

I’d hide my face and apologized for taking up space,

Yet a small voice told me,

“ Darling, your heart is still beating, right?”

I was 5 when I was first told my story,

I started to cry, scared because I didn’t want to die,

Scared because I wondered what I did to deserve to be alive,

And as the years went on,

I had to learn the difference between g u i l t and s h a m e.

But maybe, this is why I’m here.

And I may not have a pretty face,

Or skin that is clear as the sea,

I may not have everything and I will never be someone for everyone,

But I’m something,

And that something is enough.

I’m enough because I made it.

I’m enough because I’m here.

People will say that people with scars tell stories,

And although they hurt to explain,

I’ll go ahead and summarize.

You could live ten years and go through hell,

And you’d never realize how strong you were,

Because you’d be too upset about the b u r d e n,

That survival puts on you.

It’s a heavy weight, that some will say,

“ Hey, it’ll put you in shape”,

But throughout those years,

Maybe one day you’ll realize the b e a u t y,

That survival gives you.

So next time you hurt, cry, or stare,

Remember that everyone has been through war,

Everyone has suffered through all different kinds of damage,

So maybe,

They’ve just been trying their best to make peace with pain.

I yearned for adulthood at nine years old,

I couldn’t wait to be a woman,

Until I realized the world’s danger as a teen,

I wasn’t even safe at the age that I started to dream,

When there’s men whose hearts are filled with lust and greed,

I couldn’t wait to be a woman,

Until I ran from the fear of being followed practicing my sport,

Covering up my shoulders to prevent their control,

Wrapping the towel around my swimsuit to prevent anyone from looking at me,

I couldn’t wait to be a woman,

Until politicians took away my rights,

Liberty and justice for all, only when it comes to the patriarchy,

I read stories about women who were denied this 100 years past me,

100 years and I still live in a world of misogyny,

Nothing has changed, except the one who is blamed,

Are you man enough, to keep your hands and remarks away,

But even if they can, they’ll just generate something on screen,

Of someone they’ve never seen,

Of someone who they’ll never meet,

Girls are just wanting to be women too,

And that’s when they realize the world's danger too soon,

We must keep our children safe, but our wants never become everyone’s needs,

We must protect the women who are hurt from shame, but their reproductive rights are never seen,

Because women still aren’t safe,

When men get mad for her casting a ballot,

When politicians blame her for saving her life,

When teens create images of their teachers instead,

Being a woman isn’t fun, it’s scary,

It’s like everyday, you’re told to get married,

Having kids will never be the American dream,

But the goals I had as a teen,

I wanted to be a woman,

I wanted to be grown up too soon,

But in 2026,

It’s still a hard ask,

Just to exist without the danger of being free.

They say,

That I’m lucky to live with this kinda ability, 

Even though it can be debilitating.

The truth is, being a writer can kinda be nothing more than a disease,

As you take the shape of a mind that doesn’t even exist,

As you look at your words, and look at all the lives you want to please,

It’s a medication, and it’s easy to overdose,

Once you find what damages your bones,

And I let the words spill out on my pen,

Like it’s some sort of vitamin,

And then they’ll consume my time,

And take over my pride,

I’m constantly living in a different life,

When can I find a place that’s mine?

I don’t like telling people what my stories are about,

Because it’s difficult getting my feelings out,

That isn’t really me, it’s through someone else’s eyes,

But the words I write are inspired by the tears that I cry,

And I let the words cut my heart like a knife,

Sometimes I look at the paper and wonder if it’s really mine.

It’s not a talent, just something that helps me get by,

Without it, I wouldn’t know how to survive,

But it hurts to be a writer sometimes,

When you can’t be your own character in your life.

Took the west, and lifted up a fist,

It’s a dream to be free,

Like the satellites launched in the sky in 53’,

Machinery in the stars above,

Fire on the ground just to shove,

Speeches in DC,

Protests in the city streets,

It’s a dream to be free,

Like the women that came before me,

Like the soldiers who fought for the sake of politics,

Another piece on the chess board hit,

Another battle, you can see the anger in his eyes,

Brought by the men that bled red,

Against the pledge that was praised as troops fled,

As Kennedy and Krushchev argue over what shade fits,

On how a leader should rule on stolen land,

On how to justify the lives lost in a great leap,

Towards the west, because it’s a dream to be free,

It destroys walls and the ruins of a 4 year term,

And it’s not like we’ve ever learned,

But it’s what the world conjures,

As men hide in the trees in Vietnam,

Such a color, it’s evergreen,

No shield to protect a young heart from the bullets that fire,

As students duck and cover, from hatred launched from the other side,

As bombs fell in the night in 69’,

Hendrix strums his guitar, this purple haze reached our democracy,

It’s a reformation, as Martin Luther becomes nothing short of a king,

Sought by the men and women who bled red,

As they recite the pledge but aren’t seen as free,

They recite the pledge, because it’s a dream to be free,

And they’ll keep dreaming, just like like the speech he gave in DC,

And it’s not like we’ll ever learn,

But we’ll burn and ban the pages that teach,

Just like McCarthy did in the 50’s

This red scare, really got a hold on me,

Might as well change the pledge, as we sent out troops that fled,

One nation under God, anger in the stars above,

As he watches the horror and the sin that’s been done,

So many lives lost from this gamble of liberty,

Because it’s the American dream to be free,

And that’s how it hasn’t been reached.

What more can we ask for,

She works for her husband like it’s a chore,

He gets attacked for what he believes inside his mind,

And gets called a crime,

I thought this was over, but it still resides,

I thought this was over, but the world will just get colder,

Because what’s a rose if it isn’t white,

Because what’s a dress if they don’t make one in black,

And we’re taught to run away from something that shouldn’t even be inside,

And we’re taught to stay away from hearts that beat for hands that create,

At such an early age,

At such an early age,

Is this the price we have to pay,

For being free,

Is this the price we have to pay,

For our minds locked up in chains,

Because not even paintings can describe the pain she felt that night,

Because not even sculptures can explain the reason why,

The world still spins when we lose another life,

The world still spins when we all lose our lives,

And I’ll never find an answer why,

The stars still shine at night,

And why the sun still wants to rise,

After all the darkness it’s seen hidden under the clouds,

And that’s just history, the words we create,

And it’ll repeat because we’re born to make mistakes,

But imperfections are why we’re alive,

So we should never forget that when we see someone with a different life,

So we should never forget that no matter how many times a bullet strikes,

Because a life is all we all receive,

And some weep because another soul is destroying,

And some weep because another soul is performing,

Never forget that we all end up the same,

It’s just that we end up in different ways,

It’s just something that we call faith,

And faith is something that unites and divides,

How can someone so loving be so cruel,

How can someone so kind, wish the other person to die,

Look at them,

Aliens,

Look at them,

I don’t think they should speak,

If I can’t understand the language that wraps around their tongue,

Try this,

Conquest,

Try this,

Expansion,

Crusades,

Genocide,

Ignorance and hate,

Because all words mean the same,

They just come out of mouths that belong to a different race,

Who were born the same way,

Babies aren’t born criminals,

It’s just the way we perceive crime,

And that’s how we create,

And that’s the reason we debate,

Over who gets the right to pay the full price,

Of what it means to be a human being in 2025,

We’re all created the same,

But we create an identity that separates us from our name,

I can’t imagine what it would be like if we were all the same,

Yet, we spit and call it a shame,

When we realize that the world is more than just what we see in our minds.

Reading how a family of four found their fate,

A school closed down its gates,

Because of a bullet that was carried by someone half their age,

It’s a scary world, but I put on a straight face,

It’s a scary world, it still happens to this day,

A woman lost her baby along with herself today.

Pages and pages, it’s just a reflection of the lives we could’ve saved,

Reading about the children who died without a shelter,

The skies were full of rage,

You couldn’t even see the sun that day,

They couldn’t even see their son that day,

Because of a war fought by politicians older than them,

It’s a scary world, so we turn on the radio,

To ease our worries about each of our fates,

It’s a scary world, but they tell us to not be afraid,

You’re in the hands of a great man.

And I want to run away from this black ink,

That colors the world as cameras flash,

If only we knew how to act,

But there will always be a reminiscence of our past,

And I want to run away from this black ink,

That echoes through the screens we see,

If only they had the right to be free,

Something that you shouldn’t even have to fight to receive,

But they’ll starve for something they’ll never get to be,

And they’ll terrorize and repeat what’s been written in this black ink,

It’s a scary world, but they’ll launch fireworks to celebrate,

While something red causes the parade to break,

It’s such a shame, but carry on the ache,

Because what’s a world without pollution,

That lives in someone else’s mind,

Because what’s a world without a revolution,

Where she doesn’t even get to fight,

It’s a scary world, but they tell us to not be afraid,

After all, we’ll be in the news someday.