You think you've
got it
Oh, so hard now
(And tears are streaming down your face and darkness beats at your soul)
And then you
go and
Look around
(Because all you are is one more complainer.)
And You
know full well
others have it worse,
(And for them,
you hope
they continue, to complain, because
maybe someone will listen, and
life is ruthless but death is death,
while you may as well be a ghost)
But that doesn't change your
insomniatic habits of being unable to sleep until half past one
or
your solitude of half-self-imposed loneliness because
you won't force your burdens upon your friends
or
the fact that you
cry yourself to sleep every night because
you can only mask your tears for so long.

So you
breathe in daylight like it is air
(because darkness lessens and you  must be ligherbrighter around other people)
and
fake a smile everyone believes and
(you still fall apart at night).


you like to think that the night might be forgiving (because nothing else is)
and you
Hope your
silent complaints
*might actually make a difference,
Even if
overall
the world has
just as many
Complainers
as before.

When I was at school,
I sat inbetween two best friends.
They would pass notes over me
talk over me.
Like I didn't exist.
Like they didn't care.

When I was at school,
I sat between two best friends,
I wouldn't try and talk to them
smile at them.
I wouldn't dare.

When I was at school,
I sat between two best friends
so when the teacher asked
'Who's partner?'
They'd say
"Us Miss!"

I'd say
'Nobody Miss'
But she wouldn't hear.
So
on a dreary Thursday
-periods three and four-
I would sit by myself in Music class
all alone by the piano.

When I was at school,
I sat between two best friends.
isn't it sad how I seemed to
look forward to their conversations?
Don't look at me like that.
I didn't have any other ones to look forward to.

When I was at school,
I sat between two best friends.
I wouldn't blame them for not liking me.
           *no one really did

Wipe away my memory
like I was never there.
Rip away the walls around my heart,
until the flesh is bare.

**** me till I
bleed to death
Cry for me in despair.
Search for me in your memories,
when I was never there.

You will cross that threshold my dear
of death, a pond so shallow
I shall be waiting for you my dear
over at the deathly Hallows

i want to escape
i want to drink to future accomplishments
i want to love
i want to ***** up
i want to dance
i want to forget
i want to make the promise to love you forever
i want to make the perfect poem
so much pressure to make
the perfect poem.
instead of all these feelings
ill just talk about anything.
i live in the middle of
somewhere and nowhere and
life is crazy and terrible and good all at once.
and i do my best to exist just for you

They say
it takes skill
to wield a knife

you have to hold it right
at the right angle
in the right way
at the right time

But you,
I doubted that you had practice
You had,
the clumsiest hands I would ever know.

But when the time came,
-like an expert-
you wedged that knife
into my very soul