I don't know how to write the song,
That I'd sing to you every night,
I don't know if I can make you mine,
But I promise I'll make things right.

I don't know if I can sing you to sleep,
But the melody beats in my chest,
I don't know how many wrongs make a right,
But if loving you is wrong, I confess:

Maybe I'm not perfect,
But I did the best I can,
Maybe I'm not worth it,
But I hope you understand.
I know that I'm different,
But it stands that, in the end,
No matter how we're distant,
I will bring you home again.

I don't know what I can do for you,
To make your life more beautiful,
Just as I wish you were here for me,
Know that I'm here for you.

Here I am for you to hold,
Through each and every year,
I will be with you til we both grow old,
Yes, I will be with you, my dear.

So...
Maybe I'm not perfect,
But I did the best I can,
Maybe I'm not worth it,
But I hope you understand.
I know that I'm different,
But it stands that, in the end,
No matter how we're distant,
I will bring you home again.

I don't know how to write the song,
That I'd sing to you every night,
I don't know if I can make you mine,
But I promise I'll make things right.

A swirling mist,
Undulating tendrils sneaking away...
Inky shadows fitting in and out of view...
Through the haze, I perceive a world that I have departed, a world I used to know.
I desire only to reach out and caress it, to whisper my silent goodbyes...
My tombstone restrains me, forcing me to remain dead.

No amount of depression can change the past, and no amout of anxiety can help the **future.

If I was a monster, would you be scared of me?

I wouldn't be surprised if you tried to flee.

Look at the beast that I've become.

Will you leave me, will you run?

Or would you dare to set me free?

And break the chains that have broken me?

You could save me and be the one,

To tame the monster I've become.

Would you look into my eyes and see,

That inside this beast, it's still me?

Can't you see me bleed and cry?

I can't fix myself, even if I try.

You think I've changed, but actually,

This monster here has always been me.

For far too long I've been locked inside,

These chains of my own guilt and pride.

What if I'm not who you thought I would be?

If I was a monster, would you still love me?

How awfully sad it is when our body is our home,
And someone you love,
Tries to burn it to the ground.

How awfully sad it is when the eyes are our windows,
And someone you know,
Choses to shut out​ the light.

How terribly sad it is when our hearts are made to love and to yearn, as the fireplace,
And you see that someone,
Has put out their flames and snuffed out what was left.

They are finished and done,
Nothing is the same, no one, nowhere, none.

Ian runs up to bat, sweat flooding his face.
He grips the bat tightly, then suddenly,
CRACK!
The ball flies to the crowd as he rounds first, then second, then third, and finally...

"KID!"

I jump up, my book hitting the ground.
I saw my principal at the door, arms crossed.

"Go home."