One of us sees a storm.
visibility is low,
winds are high,
as a blizzard swirls and howls.
The hazy sky rages forevermore.

It's always been, and will it always?
At the corner of her room,
her face is hidden by emotion.
Soon snowflakes will fall for the last time.

The other sees nothing but the same.
The same old rain
Every single day.
The grey sky sheds its tears infinitely.

Its always been, and will it always?  
At the corner of her room,
She rests her head on a fist.
Soon the yellow rain jacket will find its hook.

Lonely is my friend
                We'll always end up

  Meeting
          Once
  
                 Again

Sit me
      Down

   Sipping
          Drowning in

                

   T
       e
           a    


                                Enjoying no ones



                                            Company.

We live in a society full of insecurity
Red lips
Dark eyes
Fake tan.
Forced smiles
Closed eyes
Clenched fists,
Show no weakness
Show no mercy
Small hands on pale stomachs
Eyes constantly searching for ways to rid that extra pound
That extra curve
**** in
Deep breath
Back straight
Every calorie counts.
Is this really the world that we live in?
Is this the life that we wish to lead?
Our lives are no longer determined by the way that we think
They are not dedicated to achieving our dreams
To pursuing our goals
No
The way that we live is based upon the way that we look
And thus, the way that we are treated
We are always going to compare ourselves to another
That is a given
If we don't look good then we aren't happy
Right?
But for others to determine the fates of ourselves depending strictly upon a template of "perfection"?
Perfection is a disease
The very aspect of it plagues your mind
Inhabits your soul
And brings upon an individual an idea of something to achieve
That is nearly impossible to achieve
It is a roller coaster that only goes down
A concoction that only leads to inevitable heartache and pain
A poison that has no known cure
And it hurts
Perfection hurts.

i am,
origami....
all mountain folds
and valley creases.

most days,

something, intriguing
and exquisitely beautiful.

on others,

a piece of creased paper,
lying discarded....
at the bottom of the bin.

HE GRABBED HER FACE AND
PULLED HER IN LIKE SHE WAS
HIS ONLY REMAINING SOURCE
OF LIVING, LIKE SHE WAS THE
GRAVITY KEEPING HIM ON EARTH

what happened
or what's going on
or why he did what he did.

the way she's feeling
the way they're all feeling,
what I'm feeling.
So complicated.

when I cried
and you didn't.
while I slept,
and you couldn't.

why it happened there
and happened then.
What I can't do
and what I can.

why the world is this way now.
why my thoughts have shifted.
why it couldn't be different.


Why?

I don't know.