Forgiveness takes twoThe words are strugglingto tumble off my tongue,and despite havinga fleshy cushionto rest on,they stain my teethand sting like acid"I'm sorry," I stutter,but the bitter tastedoesn't leave my tongue-not because the words weren't true,but because I knowI won't hear,"me too."
A message to the brokenYou drown yourselfin liquid sorrows,letting the salty messburn your wounds,and the sadnessto drip in your mouth,consuming your wordsand you sayyou deserve the pain,but I want to dry your face,and whisper in your earhow the clouds cry too,while they hold such beauty,and so do you.
The tough gets growingI'm knee-deep in mud,grumbling and mumblingabout what I didto deserve this messAnd my mother glares,saying,"When I planted you,I put you deep in the dirt,not to bury you alive,but to teach you thatwhen the growing gets tough,the tough gets growing."
IntrovertEveryone's tryingto get out ofthe shadowof their parents-I'm here tryingto get out ofthe shadowof myself.
Melancholy thoughtsI tastethe sweetnessin your words,only to wonderhow many othershave tastedthem too.
GoodbyeI want to mutter a million things,but they’re catching in my throatAnd my heart is heavy in my chest,with a weight that holds a heavy loadThis weight is not a pound of gold,but rather a pound of worthless rocksAnd now I’m spitting bits of gravelas I try to talk
Candle WaxYou meltmy heartlike candle wax,but I'm afraidover timeI'll getburnt.
When you care too muchI'm so afraidof losing peoplethat I attachmyselflike a leechand nowI'm stuck heresucking lifeout of everyoneI tryto reach.
Lonely:When you'reso unwantedthat evenyour thoughtschooseto exityour company.
It's okay to be differentFitting in's a trap:they put you inside the box,and then close the lid.
You only fly for a little whileShe was just four years oldkicking her feetharder and harder,as the swingset creakedand crackedShe finally reached the peak,jumped off,and said,"Mama, I'm gonna fly."and so she did;three feet into the air,sticking the landinglike a gymnastAnd I wonder everydayif those were the same wordsshe mutteredbefore jumping off that bridge,unable to remember,you only fly for a little while.
You're worth so much moreShe was the typeto cut her wrists,and then swallow therazor blade,because looking at whatshe'd donewas even harderto digestbut I want to tell herto let the emotionss l p i lout of her mouth,instead of herskin,and that I'll gladlylet the words slice me,if it meansit'll saveher wrists.
ShipI missed you todayI regretfully say,My feelings are tidesmoving every which wayThe image of youshall be washed apart,As the shore and the oceando gently departAnd the way that my feetleft prints on the sand,Is the way that I feltwhen you held my handBut it's time to move on,this ship's found new land,The anchor is sunk,and I will withstand
Cement HeartI built a wallaround my heart,and sworeI'd never let you inbut the more time thatI spend with you,allows the beatsto crackthe cement.
It's okay to be imperfectThe moonhas craterstoo,and lookhow brightit shines,even inthe darkestof times.
LungsMaybe ifour lungsexhaled moneyinstead ofcarbon dioxide,we'd valuelifea little more(or maybe we'd just go broke).
Death isn't a fresh perspectiveI saw my motherswallowing something smallwhen I was just a childThe anguish in her eyesfaded, as she told meit was just atic-tac,with a little extra kickmaybe years later,that's how I convincedmyselfto swallow fifteen,thinking it'dgive me a fresh perspective;in the end,my breath reekedof deathinstead of mint.
AlcoholicYour tux is the colorof a coal miner’s faceafter a long, hard day of work:something you’ve neverhad to experienceYet you talk as thoughyou’re just as worn out;your trivial chit-chatis turning syrupy with every sip,although your sentencesaren’t getting any sweeterAnd you grab another glassof the effervescent liquid,hoping the sea of black will blend together,and it will be dark enoughfor you to fall asleepAnd as you walk tipsily to the bathroom,the overpaid opera singerbelts her last high note- a bit too high;your crystal glass shattersinto a thousand piecesAnd with it, you shatter too.
the dead and the dyingthe funny thing abouthumans is thatwe think we areinvincible and immortalgods.no—we're allroadkill,living ina tainted worldwhere cars drivetoo damn fast.and me,well,i just try toget by withoutbeing hitmore than once.
Unsaid truths and spoken hateunsaid truths and spoken hate will forever be how I remember you.I won't remember your petiteand deliciously sweet smile.I won't remember the nervous way you'd embrace meas though my open arms might be retracted at any moment.I won't remember your kindnesswrought from a belief you deservednone of what life had been willingto bless upon you.I won't remember how I nearly lovedevery little part of youfrom your crooked smirkto your large handsmolded perfectly to fit in mine.I will remember your cowardiceyour fear of the possibility of my love.I will remember your lieswhispered sweetly to mein that empty library of how you thought we could last together.I will remember all the embittered and loving words which choked me as you forcedsuch hat
The Girl Who Was Afraid To BeShe speaks to me fondlyof passions and talents,of guitars and stars,with such breathless intensitythen stops short andapologisesfor speaking at all.All because somewhere in her life,someone she loved broke her heartby ignoringher beautiful wordsand telling her toshut up,keep it down,nobody cares.People aren’t born sad.We make them that way.
.green childrenforce themselvesup and outof their beds -the sun smiles,and reaches downto embrace them
.what doesn't kill youcomes back with something strongerto finish the job
powerless, and reaching."He's the kind of personwho tells me to 'cheer up'when I'm depressed,"he says, scoffing,and I shake my headand say,"What a useless comment."He chuckles, agrees,but I keep thinking abouthim,about all the "cheer up"sand "just be happy"s he's heard in his life.I want to say "cheer up,"I want my words to magicallycure him, heal him, crush his depressionin a way that no pills ever could,but I know it doesn't work like that.Happiness is not an itemto be obtained with quartersand coupons,it is not a country to travel toin airplanes and sailboats.Happiness is a change in the wind,a flicker from east to westthat cannot be upheld permanently.For him, it is a roadblocked by people who roll their eyesand tell him to get over himself.When I wrap my arms around him,he laughs again,sinks into my body.I think about hollow rooms,sound echoing off the walls.
shatteredi watched youlay the darkest partsof yourself along my bed,kept you safe as theygrew violent.they may stillbite like razors,but your armorhas grown thicker.
Words That Burnt My Tonguei. You don't need thunderstorms or hurricanes to prove that you are living. You don't need fields of dandelions or gardens of roses to justify your existence.ii. Let the woodpecker mend your plastered heart. Know that it's going to hurt because you're blasting into comets and meteoroids, you're no longer remnants of musky ashes that he left you.iii. Be brave enough to let your tears bloom the roses of tomorrow.
We see different starsWe see different starsWhile yours shine throughoutthe darkness of your night,light the way into your sky,and hold your wishes tilthey finally come true,mine reflect in the murky filthfrom which they can be seenacting as disgusting mirrorsinto a world which cannot be mine
Apologies to a friendYou pour your heart out to me,and are willingto submerge mein an oceanof loveyet when I see the waterrushing towards me,I convince myselfI don't liketo swim