Just Words"I'm fine" is a dirty lie.The truth is that I want to die. "I'm tired" is not even done.It really means "I'm tired of being no one" "I'm better" is but a curse.The truth is that I've never been worse "I'm just cold" is what I sayso my sleeves can hide my scars away. "I already ate" is said with a frown.I starve to see the numbers on the scale go down. "I'm okay" is probably the worst.It really means I'm about to burst. All these things are lies to me.But you take this as the truth because what else would I be?
Tell Me ThisOh, so you're not thin?Tell me how you're ugly.Oh, so your hair doesn't look good everyday?Tell me whose does.Oh, so you make mistakes?Tell me who doesn't.Oh, so you're not a model?Tell me what the definition of beauty is.Oh, so you aren't normal?Tell me what "normal" is.Oh, so you aren't good enough?Tell me why.You can't.Because there isn't a standard you need to reach to be yourself.
Stupid BlondeWhy, yes.I do pick up books.And thank you for thinking I hold them upside down or I can't even finish the first page. Why, yes.I do math.And thank you for thinking I can't long divide or that numbers shave my mind blank. Why, yes.I can write.And, again, thank you for thinking I can't use a pen or that I <rite tings liek dis>Why dont you take a label maker and slap it right on my forehead? All to see and all to share? "Stupid blonde" Maybe a pawn in your conversation, or ideas just easily ignored.A voice filtered upon arrival and spilled down the drain to wash away, carried to a place where rubbish seals any whisper left to fade.Voices become whispers, and whispers become the helpless echos of ideas shed free of a mind that is as fully functional as yours,My friend, it is but you who label me with a permanent marker, that set my skys with the bleakest ink.But h
You Can't Tell MeYou can't tell methat my writing is wrong.It might be for youBut for me it will live, forever strong You can't tell methat my words are not right.They might not be prefectBut I'll still put up a fight You can't tell memy rhymes are too mix-matched.Its just because they are not yoursTo me they do not lack You can't tell meI did not try my best.Who are you to evaluate?Its not like its a test You can't tell methat I didn't follow a rule.Creativity has no listI think you are a fool You can't tell methat I didn't emote at all.How can you tell me what I feel?Its not like I'm a doll You cant tell meeverything that I should.How can you think you know everything?And think you know whats "good"?
Isomnia.To the mocking flash of my cell phone clockThe glitter of morning my closed blinds blockIn a hunch on a chair or a ball on my bedComfortable and comfy but I stay up insteadWith paper and pens and paintbrushes I raiseAnd the stories that unfold on each turning pageYoutube, Facebook, and clicking linksAre the things that keep me from even a blinkRound and round, my thoughts echo and spinClosing my eyes even seems like a sinRedbull, pepsi, and midnight snacksDrinks of sugar in tempting twelve packsThe silence of myself and the embrace of a bookCasting and reeling until sleep's on my hookThey say theres plenty of fish in the seaBut sleep swims deeper than my hook can seeAlone in a dimming desk lamp lightConfronted by morning that stepped through the nightOpen curtains, birds with a morning songIt's a shame I had to wait this long.
RiverbendTransluscent lines of a river's foldGems of blue and fish of goldShimmer and dance, the embrace of an old friendDown the steady shores of a riverbend. Smooth canoe tracks over gentle rides Over gentle stones with a gentle glideGentle, gentle. Will these softened turns end?Down the steady shores of a riverbend? But is the river really steady? Or maybe I'm just not readySkies are whispy and clouds in flame, is this pretend?Down the steady shores of a riverbend? These waters are always churningAlways flowing and always turningWith my future on a teater, on this brand new pendDown the steady shores of a riverbend I can't see past these rugged wavesIcecap tips, I'm the waters slaveHow will I ever live, if my dreams cannot extendDown the steady shores of a riverbend? Familiar lines are washed and shedBlue walls are now crashing insteadIs this really where I belong, where
Crash And BurnI wonder if other people see how I feel.With every glare to meet my eyes,its another preying glare to slap my faceand another glare that heats my cheeks with nervous fire I wonder if, day after day,if people see my fear, if they see how I shake.When they walk by, I stumble awaybecause I know they don't want me near them. I wonder if they pity meIf they see the lonely child inside my glass skin.Sometimes they give me gentle eyesbecause they feel sorry for how lonley I really am inside. I wonder if they know I don't fit in,if they try to welcome me but I'm too naive to see.But everytime I just walk away because-because everytime I try is another crash and burn.
Between the stallsAmung the sinks and filthy tilesI stay between two dirty wallsI really just need to be here aloneNo where but here amung the bathroom stalls.As I sit upon the toilet lidI can see the water between my kneesI glare into this toilet bowlAnd all I find is a circular sea.I watch as they drip again and againThe tears come streaming down my cheekThey fall into the bowl directly belowAnd vanish into the water so bleak.This is the place I come to hideThis is the place I always goWhere theres a place I can be myselfAnd not my emotions' puppet show.I hear the tap of my shoes echo the roomBut its shushed asleep by the sound of the flushThis way I can drown my emotions deadTo finally get them to shut up and hush.I use my sleeves to wipe my eyesAnd walk out from between these wallsI walk with nothing but a smile to showLike nothing happened, even at all
Sta.sh
