Scribble here, and there.
And all the way over there.
Enjoying her words on the page.
Her feelings on a stage.

I’m scared, terrified even.
That I’ll break, I’ll break down and cry if I meet your eyes,
hopefully not for the last time.
I can’t get wishful things out of my head,
I can’t get these fake dreams and ideas to just leave me alone!
Whenever I think of them, I’m happy, I’m warm.
But then I remember that it’s all gone, and I’m upset and freezing.

I’m sick of my twisted fantasies and constant “Why can’t, this” And “Why can’t that!”
I’m sick of the ****** tears that seep from my eyes like a stab wound. My heart should be the one bleeding not my eyes. I’m sick and tired of that liquid drenching my face like rain, rain is better than the tears, at least rain eventually stops, because I feel a flood building up inside me.

I’m crying about this, and I’m crying about that.
Can’t just have you back.
I’m constantly having to slap,
Slap Myself Back.
Back into the reality that, what I thought was there, wasn’t really...

Maybe.

Mistakes are made. And that's a fact.
The past is the past.
And you can not go back that far.
All you can do is adapt, and take your life back!
Move forward.

We breath together.
We breath as one.
Then one, bites their tongue.
He drops to the floor, oh what a galore!
The air is thick, and hard to swollow.
Deep breaths.
A suffocating wish.
A suicide wish.
The earth is ruined, polluted and dead.
Bye Bye Earth.
Hello Death.

Tick, Tock,
Goes The Clock.
Tick, Tock.
It's a mock.
Tick, Tock.
Then time will stop.
Tick, Tock.

i'm too young to be this sad,
i'm too young to feel this hatred towards
my face
my body
my mind
myself.

I thought that I found a new high that kept me off the ground that revealed a toxic ocean that drowned me beneath a voice, and a missing sensation, a buzz, a laugh ... and a hug.
I thought that someone had offered me a helping hand after this slump I was rocking back and forth in,

but now I'm second guessing me, because I despise me, and what I have become accustomed to creating and destroying.

Be Careful How You Talk To Someone Like Me.

i'm too young to be soaking myself in this waterfall of thoughts that i keep thinking like shots to my gullet.

i'm too young to be remembering the past and feeling depressed once I catch a whiff of a smell that you were heavily coated in, and I think back to before now and then I feel so dead inside with the past spark I had in that desirable, beautiful life I once sort to be my future.

i'm too young to feel dead

It is not just the main things, it is also the others, the little things
that are not called for, even then neither is the rest...
She spits vile words and harsh poison into my eyes and it stings and burns as I cry in anguish

stop.
how do you think I feel? You don't, words fall from your mouth and spill onto the floor and flood it from the hurt, you tell me to ignore them and only think for myself and get myself set.
Set on what mother?
I have nothing to go off, no one I can turn to for this sort of thing.
You tell me not to feel for the others. Mum, if you really haven't noticed yet, I'm shocked.

You know I can't do this, but you say I don't try hard enough, I'm not putting in the effort...shut up.
I have no talents or skills, you should know this mother.
If I had something, you would've been proud by now, but you're not, so please just stop.

Yes my grades are a mess, and yes I like that boy and yes I'm trying.
"If you stop putting yourself down" you say, like you're trying to comfort me, you're not
You're one of the reasons I put myself down mother, it's you.
And dad, don't forget that man.

you want me to be. Perfect. I can't be that, you should ******* know that.
But you don't. You don't listen, you don't care, you don't understand anything you put me through, "It's not good enough"

leave me
...
no more
I'm done with this. You need to understand that I haven't the slightest ******* clue what i want to do, because I don't know what I can do, I'm not smart enough, I don't have money, I don't have a stupid job, I have nothing I can bring to the table that you like to spin around whenever I try to grab something off it.

Stop making me feel like I'm not good enough.

I wish for freedom from all the problems that come my way,
some still haunt me from my past to this day.
They keep coming back, the same thoughts again and again.
Same problem, different day, similar night.

I don't like it.
I'm from the West side of Australia, from the beautiful down under.
But pretty land doesn't mean everything projected is true, I am trapped in this country with these people

I only wish to escape from this West Side, to spread out across the world and no longer be contained in a cage with broken, ****** and battered wings, I wish to be here and there and never look back.
But I can't do that, no because they keep coming back, again and again, why can't you just stop!?

Let me go, let my wings heal and stretch, so that I can finally learn to fly high and maybe leave this West side of Australia

I can't really think of anything at this point.
I feel like, I won't get anywhere if I don't try, but then I feel if I do try.
I'll see fear in their eyes.

The sun is frightening but brightens the world to let us see beauty, I do not wish to be the sunlight in someone's life, but I much prefer the moon.

A gracious and bright white glow that lets you see the path ahead in the dark.

But what can I do?
I'm only me, and you are only you.
I can't seem to let go of this grip I'm holding onto.
To others it may seem sickening or twisting.
But, I don't know what I'm doing, and I honestly wish people didn't waste their time *******.

******* around with their words, ******* around with my mind with their turds, thinking they're speaking English.

All they're spouting is nonsense.
****.
Don't ***** around with the truth.
Just tell it to me straight.
All of your opinions are the same, it's like everyone's words are only on replay.
Original mixtape, pirated between people's brains.

I wish to leave.
This cruel, cruel world.
Because society is a tease.
But I do not want to twirl.

I wish to leave.
Oh, please, please, please.
Let me, be me.

I know you’re there.
Waiting for me.
Staying by me.
Yet this craving of physical intimacy,
It never succeeds, because you’re not here,
You Are Not Here
Here with me, though I wish you would and could be.
It’s frightening and scary, even if I know,
But deep in my soul,
I feel a distance from you,
Distant from you.

And I Don’t Know How To Tell You.

I’ve been untied from the train tracks, a duet of men came to my aid,
They cut the ropes and made me stand straight,
They held me when I cried, accepted my thanks through ale and bribes.
I missed this kind of excitement they live.
So we are now,
The Three Musketeers.

The days go on, leaping through another month, another year.
By dear oh dear, when does it end?
That’s the thing, we don’t know, we’re trapped in the darkness of the unknown and only some of us feel as though we are the flourishing ones.
Then the others crumble and shatter, because they are the ones that feel lost and are withering their petals slowlywith every scratch of that blade.

It’s almost sad really, why do we care if someone dies?
I mean, time goes on and on, and as far as we know it never stops, so no matter how long you may have lived or are going to live,
It’ll be nothing compared to the universe.

It’s Almost Sad.