What to do
What to do
A constant thought
What to do
I don't want to think
I want to do
But i'm paralyzed by the sight of you
I want to do
I want to do
What's best for me
What's best for you
But what to do
Oh, what to do
I'm lost
I'm scared
Of losing you
But I don't know
What to do
I don't know
What to do
Jun 1, 2018
Jun 1, 2018 at 1:13 PM UTC
Dandelions are pretty
But my father said they are weeds
He pulled them out of the earth
And threw them out
But she told me that my father was wrong
That dandelions aren’t weeds
That they are beautiful
And yet some people can't see that
Because like me, their fathers taught them wrong
She said it wasn't wrong for me to think they are beautiful
It wasn't wrong to blow their little seeds
secretly
making sure my parents didn't see
Because some people are taught to stay away from beauty
In reality dandelions don't steal nutrients
Rather they nourish the plants around them
With their wide roots that pull from deep within the earth
And share with everyone they meet
They make the world happy
And the grass greener
They are beautiful
You made me happy
So I gave you a dandelion that I picked from the earth
I cut it from the stem just for you
But you didn't take it
You thought it was a ****
I tried again
Because I remembered what she told me
“Dandelions aren’t weeds”
“They are beautiful”
But when you took my flower
You dropped it on the concrete
You too, were taught that dandelions are weeds
But the difference is:
you let yourself believe it’s true
May 30, 2018
May 30, 2018 at 8:03 AM UTC
My life isn't fiction
Though it may seem that way
When things just line up on the right time on the right day
To create something radiant
And wonderful
And pure
My life isn't fiction
Cause there's one thing that i'm sure:
The end isn't written
fate can always change
And im the only one
Who can control what's on each page
May 23, 2018
May 23, 2018 at 1:12 PM UTC
I built myself a home
Made of pieces of me
Made of things I saw
And things I felt
I built myself a home
Only using what I needed
Only using what was there
And only what was exceptional
I built myself a home
Long before I was old enough to know
Long before I was old enough to see
What it was like to love the ones around me
I built myself a home
Because I wanted nothing to do with anyone else
Because I wanted it to just be me and the earth
I built it because I didn't know
I didn't know what was beyond those trees
I didn't know who was in those houses
But I knew the forest
And I knew myself
I built myself a home
It was safe
It was still
And It was enough for me
I built myself a home
But seasons change
And water flows
And the tide carries you somewhere new
Somewhere new to build a home
Maybe now I can grow
Maybe now I don't have to be alone
Maybe now I can build a home
For you
May 10, 2018
May 10, 2018 at 11:46 AM UTC
Right before she broke my heart I said to her
“You know, there is beauty to be found in gloom and despair. It's just a different type of beautiful”
There is something beautiful in the pain we feel
There is something magnificent in heartbreak
And something glorious in grief
There is beauty in the departure of beauty
The absence is its own beautiful
It leaves like a strong gust of wind through the moors
Wiping away the color as it passes
There is beauty in transition
The realization as a woman's face drops
When she hears the news of her husband's death
You can see the color, and the hope flush out
as she realizes this new reality
There is beauty in the real
There is no such thing as perfection
To be the most perfect, there must be pain
And all pain leads to love
There is beauty in rebirth
The tree that drops her seeds
Not only to die
But to grow a new beautiful
Sprouting from the ashes of the destroyed hearts before it
May 3, 2018
May 3, 2018 at 9:46 AM UTC
I don't want you to love me
That was never the goal
I want you to believe me
And everything I say
I want you to see what I see
When I look into your eyes
I want you to hear what I hear
When you open your mouth
I just want to love you
So you can love yourself
May 2, 2018
May 2, 2018 at 10:23 AM UTC
My brain is not a puzzle piece
Its tangled strings of thought
You are not here to put me back together
I am here to simply untangle myself
Each tangled string is complete and strong
They shine with bright colors of the rainbow
It's truly beautiful
My brain is not that of the ones around me
It is my abstract painting
Placed in a museum with a crowd of young and old
Some say it's not art
And grunt as they walk by
While others jot down ideas
On how to perfect their own piece
My brain is truly and thoroughly my own
My own to shape
And my own to love
Apr 30, 2018
Apr 30, 2018 at 8:13 AM UTC
My Instincts are kicking in
They are telling me to run
But my legs are sore and my lungs are weak
They are tired from worry
They are tired from anticipation
My eyes are open when it's time to sleep
My teeth are bared when it's time to eat
Its fight or flight
In this world of mine
And this time
I'm the meat
Apr 27, 2018
Apr 27, 2018 at 9:25 AM UTC
If I could do it
Id cut my tongue
Clean off like a slice of meat
If I couldn't feel it
Id pull out my teeth
Leaving holes where the pain used to be
If no one would know
Id erase my brain
And brush away all traces of me
Keeping only the plain and the safe
Id join the world
And they’d love my song
They would cheer and clap their hands
They would sing along to The Anthem of the Annoying
Apr 27, 2018
Apr 27, 2018 at 9:19 AM UTC
Every moment with her was a page in a book
So surreal and whimsical
The world revolved around her
And the weather changed at her command
She was a celestial being
With all the power in her hands
To shape my story
Her words painted pictures
Her voice sounded like a song
Her face was perfectly sculpted
Like a true work of art
Every day with her was another chapter
Every moment a new page
But it was just a short story
And all stories end
You get so immersed in its beauty you forget the world exists
But it stopped too soon
You wanted a novel
You want to read more
But that wasn't the author's intention
Apr 26, 2018
Apr 26, 2018 at 7:24 AM UTC