Calligraphy

So, I've taken to writing all my poems with my calligraphy pen set.
it makes me feel all old-fashioned and cool. Like I'm not living in this modern world where I can just type out how I'm feeling and wear short skirts and show my ankles and all that good stuff. Where I can be who I want to be. Not that I don't love modern technology and times, I mean, I can be whatever I want. I can do what I want, because women are no longer subservient to men. Its just that... I would have loved to at least have experienced that. The corsets and finishing school and gas lamps and everything. Too bad it's all romanticized and I'll never know how it really was. Just like people a hundred years from now can't imagine how I live today. Or maybe they can imagine, just like me on my flights of fancy, but it's all going to change.

So. I've decided: I'm going to be a gypsy when I grow up. I will travel and do my art and writing and whatever else. I'll see things and meet people and help people. It doesn't seem so bad, and I'll never get bored! Here, my life is boring. I'm so used to it. I can't stand it! I just want something interesting to happen; something new every day. School is so structured, and so is everything I do. I just want something different. New faces, new places. That sort of thing.

Everyone's got cracks,
fissures under the surface.
I'm sure you've heard it all
before.
The lucky ones, they're
needle-thin, delicate.
Ornate, even.
Mine. Oh, oh mine.
Mine are not of
that kind, If you'd
indulge, and believe me
for a moment.
They're the kind that
kill, the kind
that stretch deeper,
invading to the core.
The deadliest ones,
they're not seen.
My invisible cracks,
fault lines broken
over again.
Reparations, rennovations
postponed for yet
another earthquake, a
mighty aftershock.
The ones that might
eventually crumble,
leaving me. Oh, those
ornamental ones,
I envy them.