A part of them remains in me still.
Which is I guess why it's true that I'll always be her friend,
Because we traded a part of us we can never give back.
When I'm friends with someone I mean it,
And so her indent will always remain.

Fear of them, I fear them,
No not men, just the idea of them,
Actually no, the idea I quite like;
It’s the non-real reality that scares me,
Terrorises me just a little if I stop to think.
No it’s not men, it’s just people.
Maybe it’s all just my social anxiety,
Talking to me again in a slightly different way,
I mean, I know anxiety can change but it doesn’t, not for me:
I know me,
I just don’t know what I’m scared of really.

I can’t believe I dare to write this,
Go away Chloe, just shut yourself up inside again,
Then you won’t have to think about anyone.
Well that’s a lie, I think about people all of the time;
The people I could have, the people I won’t, people I wish existed but I sadly know never will
(I convince myself they will anyway),
And when they’re not real, I’m not afraid -
Because I’m not afraid,
I started this all up as a game.
Did someone ever tell you, you should never read lists of phobias you know you don’t have?
Well I’m telling you, don’t. You might get some.

But do you ever daydream of your perfect soul mate?
Because then I think of guys, like: real guys that actually do exist
And then I’m just like no, no I’ll stay away,
Not today, not tomorrow, I’m not ready.
Then I realise I’ll never be ready.
I’ve noted the slow progression of “could you really be scared of that Chloe? Sounds pretty stupid.”
So I’m like no, no I can’t be,
And then I get these little feelings sometimes,
Which makes me kind of go, “really are you?”
But I’m not because:
That wouldn’t make sense
And
People who know nothing on the internet say that’s sexist without knowing what they mean.
If someone actually had a phobia of the opposite *** or gender it wouldn’t be their fault, because it’s a ****** phobia.

I don’t have phobias though, not one.
Maybe social anxiety, maybe another one, maybe I’m getting one more,
But really I must just be exaggerating.
I know it’s not a phobia - that’s not what I’m claiming,
But when I imagine having a reality where...
Well it just kind of scares me.

It is what's forbidden,
But it forbids me to disobey.
I have to watch myself fall down the rabit hole.
I have to see my ambitions right in front of me,
Before they're snatched away by a desperate beggar child.
At least they can finally get what they want,
While I'm being traumatised by what I want and could have
But now never will.

Give me your pain.
You don't need to have it,
Nor should you and you don't deserve it.

Wipe your tears away,
That cover your pretty face.
Find that smile again.

Your smile, you think.
Well that is fake,
But that's what I want to change.

Give me your pain,
Give me it all.
Then you won't have to suffer,
anymore.

Think to your self.
Not of your demons inside,
But instead angelic thoughts.

Your lying in bed,
The covers over your head.
Now softly have sweet dreams.

Waking up in the morning,
You wash your face.
Now start the day with joy.

Give me your pain,
I say once again.
I'll hide it away from you.

You don't need to weep,
Your thoughts not too deep,
If you just give your pain to me.

There's no need for you,
To be on your knees.
Next wipe the dirt from the floor.

Pour yourself a drink,
Very mindlessly.
You don't need to be careful anymore.

Give me your pain,
Is what I say everyday.
I don't want to be ignored.



Guys, give me your pain!
This is what i think and want.
I don't want you or anyone,
to suffer from your thoughts.
So give me your pain.
I don't have much,
but I want a whole lot more.
I'd brace a smile, everyday,
to free you from this mess.
Give me your pain,
I whisper to you.
I am not asking but demanding.
I will not accept you saying no,
so don't deny me again.
Instead, the thing you can do,
is give me your pain now.

Good poetry doesn't deserve to be kept a sweet secret.
Don't be scared of criticism,
Release it for the world to see.
Set it free and let it flourish.

He's not there and he never was.
I already realised but I'm realising again.
Now it's making it like he's really not here,
But he never was.
And it hurts.
But it shouldn't,
Because none of this was real.
Because it's not real.
I don't feel I can go there.
But not going there,
Leaves me with nowhere to go.
And no one even though I have many.

All this is just so stupid.
It changes and then you just keep going with it.
You keep stepping out of the door everyday,
Because why wouldn't you?
You get used to it
And you keep going.
You move past it.
Yeah, it might be there to haunt you
So what? You deal with it.
It gets to the point where it doesn't matter anymore;
That's just how it is;
Nothing can be changed.

Except that's how it's supposed to be,
That isn't what it's really like,
Not for me.
I get up everyday and continue,
Because why would there be an excuse?
I don't have a reason to be unable
- or at least that's what others must see too.
You don't get used to it.
The memories lurk here everyday,
And the walls you walk past are thick with what used to be and thin with what is.
You act like you're dealing with it
To yourself and everybody else,
But truthfully you fall to the floor more often than not,
Because there's flashing lights and sirens from when it all went wrong,
And reminders of how good it felt to seem perfect.

That's just how it is;
Nothing can be changed.
Yet still it continues to feel:
Exactly the same,
Maybe it's weaker from time to time,
Occasionally you'll be led to think it's not as bad as it was before,
But you will realise again,
That it's not planning on going away.

How can you keep fixing things
When they break
So easily?

How do you turn your back on
A friendship you tried
So hard for?

How can you stop viewing memories
You wish stayed a little longer
Before all of them burned to the ground
Only soot left now,
But you'd like there to be more?

How do you prepare yourself
Each and everyday
When really, living scares you
And wish everything would go away?

I take a breath
Tell myself to be quiet again
And then I walk outside.

It's so hard when you've been hiding
to come out of it again.
You can't do it
You can't do it
You can't do it,
But you've done it before so no one cares.
Somehow you'll push through it and suddenly you've added it once more,
Realistically they know that you'll do it again,
But this isn't realistic because it's about the imaginary.

You build yourself a home,
And tell yourself it's safe,
Then you disappear there for most waking hours of the day,
Then you have breaks from school when you should do revision and work,
You want to try so hard, so hard
Because you want to finally prove you can
You can be smart.
But you can't pull away from this,
You're trapped inside and you want to stay there,
The world keeps screaming at you that you're doing it all wrong.
You already know that but you keep going along;
It's that way or no way;
The world won't let you stop
No matter how hard you beg.

The home you've devised by yourself
Is filled with what you want and things you're scared of,
People you love so arduously
Yet continue absently,
Catastrophic events that break your heart
Even though they never came to be.

So you're screaming at the real walls surrounding you
Back in the harsh reality where nothing's as you want it,
Crying out that you want them here with you;
That it's the only way you'll get through;
Your whole world depends on these stupid, dejected, lovely, astute
Daydreams.
And to everyone else you could attempt to explain this to,
That is all they are:
Daydreams.
When the only thing you want,
Is for them to be reality.

Who said I'm fine?
Well who said I'm not?
I've said neither.
Not in plain words.
I said I'm okay,
That there's nothing to say.
I simply said that one word.

What would you say?
What would you do?
Oh, if only you knew.
You don't know.
You still won't.
It's not my choice to keep it from you.

There's nothing I can say.
Not today,
Not tomorrow.
Maybe if there were some other way.
But there's not.
There isn't and there won't be.
I'm sorry.
Or maybe I'm not.

You asked how I was.
I did reply.
I had to be kind,
Anyway why wouldn't i?
I told you one word.
"Okay."
I'm always okay.
You asked and I said.
Okay doesn't always mean the same.

I said okay.
You might've thought it meant fine.
But maybe I am far from it.
Too bad I'm not then.
Maybe I had you worried then.
All it is that I can't explain.
Keep asking.
Go on,
I'll keep answering.
Be aware you might only get one word.
One word,
That's that word.
How else could I put it,
When there is no other way?

I'd love to tell you.
That's the fact,
I really would.
Believe me I don't like keeping from you.
I would tell you simply.
Right now,
Maybe today.
But actually I don't think I would.
I like to wait.
Figure stuff out.
Often stop you worrying as long as I can.
I don't know why.
You shouldn't ask why.
They are all very trivial.
Being all very small.
None of them problems at all.

It's all rather too bad.
Too bad I don't know.
Just a tad.
If I don't know then I can't tell you.
As much as I think.
No matter how much,
I still do not know.
So there's no way that I could explain.
I guess you'll have to wait.
For someone else I guess.
Someone to tell you what's wrong with them.
Right now I can't tell a soul.
Before I tell you.
I need to tell myself.
Which I can't,
because I don't know.

I’m feeling this way,
I don’t yet know how to escape
Yet I know it will evade at some point,
I’ve been drifting in and out,
Without much sound,
For maybe a year now, maybe only a second.
Should I think it’s an overstatement?
Is that what I’ve been lead to know?
Or is it just my mind bringing false accusations to surface?
Could it be because people want to doubt me,
Or because I assume if it’s happened to me it’s just a little bit, it’s only small; it doesn’t matter,
Not at all.

Three years? Four or five? Maybe none,
It’s not real, this doesn’t count.
Anxiety. It’s anxiety they said.
We’ll give you these pills,
Because you’re complaining about something else,
But we won’t acknowledge that.
You feel terrible, but we’ll say we’re treating the thing that you’ve put in some sort of remission.
Listen, listen. Why do they never listen?

It’s not that bad. How do I word it?
I could say I feel dead, but not really,
It’s been worse before,
So I don’t feel like I can use that description anymore.
It will go away soon,
I should be happy.
Actually, should I? I should feel tragic.
I do but I feel good sometimes too.
Why am I trying? No one who sees this will understand.
How about, it’s this:
I want to do something but I don’t feel like anything.
I don’t feel good but it’s not anxiety -
it’s been trickling in, but not this time, it’s not just that.
Maybe my emotions have just gone underground today,
Maybe it thought it would match to how I’m physically feeling.
I woke up so exhausted, I told someone I’m sick,
Still sick,
And they said being tired doesn’t make you sick,
But this isn’t normal tiredness,
This isn’t feeling down so your body can’t be bothered either,
This is one way of what it can feel like
When your body’s done with you,
And mines been done a long time,
But never long enough to care,
And in a decade it still won’t be time,
But I guess I should be content because
It’s only been five-hundred-and-thirty-two days.

I know no one will believe me, but maybe that’s okay,
For now,
After all, I can’t say any of these things out loud.
Like monsters, they would all surround me, laughing maliciously,
Thinking they were right,
They’re not, but how much longer do I have to put up a fight?
No one can know if I feel stressed or upset,
Not sad because then their army will have ammunition,
Meanwhile I have nothing.
Nothing, give me something,
But actually no, maybe I can’t take anymore false hope,
Because everyone, all of them, have ******* me over,
Time and time again.
They think I’m stressed, I’m not ill,
So if I say I’m starting to become stressed, unhappy, not good...
Well I don’t know what will happen,
They’ve already destroyed every single part of me.
I don’t want to give them more reasons to disbelieve my honesty.

Well it’s nice for you in a family with money full of truly intelligent people.
I’m not hard off but I’m not all that wealthy,
My family aren’t that smart so neither am I
But I swear to God I’m trying.
You may think I appear to be smart but really I’m not,
I guess you can always call me average.
I grew up being thick in the bottom of bottom sets,
So now I’m near the top I feel proud but success will soon wither for me.
I’m desperate to do my best and make it good enough.
I need to feel accomplished and like I’ve really gotten somewhere
Even though I came from nowhere.
I’ve started at the bottom and now I want to get up there,
Too bad I feel so hopeless.
So far I’ve always tried to prove myself -
I know at the moment it seems to be working,
However I’m reaching the cut off line where I can’t just talk and be convincing.
I need these real grades to prove myself to me and everyone around me.

Wherever I am,

Whenever it is,

I have to imagine,

My make believe dreams.

It might seem silly,

But this dream world,

Is interesting,

It's something to do with my time,

Rather than nothing.


I imagine loads of things,

Like you and me,

All under my control,

Because it's not real,

And only I know.

I imagine life now,

And life later on,

Not all of it is happy,

As in reality there's drama,

So the drama in my dream world,

Could seem like a possibility.


I imagine being with my friends,

Through good times,

And bad moments,

I imagine my future,

However I like.


They may sometimes be realistic,

By being dramatic to extremes,

But they will never be real,

Especially the parts,

Of you and me.


I imagine things as simple,

As spending time with you,

Not always over exciting,

But in casual moods,

Apart from you would be there,

So that would make my mood,

Soar high in the air.


Anytime spent with you,

Would be time well spent,

Even if there was tragedy,

You being there would be better,

You'd cheer me up a lot,

And take my pain away.


I imagine what would happen,

If things between us were different,

Imagine how these thoughts would change,

My love would stay the same,

But hopefully my droning,

Wouldn't stay.


Maybe I would still feel similar,

Let's face it, I would,

Even if you chose me,

I'd be far from second best,

You already treat me well,

But everyone else you treat better,

Without you even realising.


Whenever I am with you,

My troubles fly away,

It's like they never existed,

It's like you love me anyway,

But whenever your gone,

I realised you've led me on,

Even if you didn't mean to.


I can't say,

Don't you go away,

Because you've already gone,

It's been a while now,

And you've never left my mind,

Thoughts of you won't leave my head,

It's like you're pulling on my heart,

Even though you're nowhere near.


Another thing I can not say,

Is to ask you to come back,

As you're not here to listen,

Yes I can always message you,

But you are growing bored,

I'm not even with you,

But you can't be bothered with me anymore,

Why did you even bother with me,

Now you have just left.


I can't say you shouldn't have played with my heart,

Just to then go and leave,

Because after all,

You did nothing,

I just had to fall.


I imagine that one day,

Maybe it could all work out,

You should know what I'm talking about,

You should know what to give back,

I don't just want to see your face,

I want your love as well,

But all I can get right now,

Is to see your face,

And just that makes me smile,

But now what is there for me to do,

When I won't see you for so long?

I'm ******* done,
With this world that I shouldn't be in.
Once found this maze so amazing
When I was small,
But not anymore.
Growing up singing church songs
Of what I was not.
How did I belong to what promoted
What I could never be?
There you go:
The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.
Because families were made to be perfect!
So plan all your babies,
But society will still
**** them all up in cages.
Not much waiting involved
It won't take very long.
I am not what the mormon church says.
I was a mistake.
I don't live with two parents.
I see but don't live with one.
So I'm blaming my mother,
Because in theses times that I cry
Is when I realise
That it's all her fault.
I couldn't help but be created,
So for those who hate me for being born
I'm sorry but sorry won't make it right.
To those who being a demon makes you high
I guess I'll have to just stand and watch.
Yes I've grown taller
And height has made me see,
How much that I was not meant to be.
I have friends
But one day everyone
Will get torn away.
Then there will just be nothing.
Nothing of me
Or for me, at least.
And it's almost like I only have
Maladaptive daydreams to be happy about,
But I can't because they're depressing as hell.
The fact that I exist to be able to have them is déprimant
Yet I am not depressed
But maybe I should be,
Because God knows I shouldn't be here
And dear God I'm sorry I am
Because I messed up your perfect plan.
And well if my birth really was hectic
Then why couldn't I have died then?
Because my stupid, pathetic and unwanted life
Wouldn't have lasted this long.
What's a mistake is unwanted
What's unplanned is unwanted
What I am is unwanted
What I will be to those around me
One day will be
An unwanted memory.

I'm just attempting to manage my emotions,
I'm doing the best I can,
Mostly I think I'm doing very ******* well,
Or maybe I just want all these "professionals" to be wrong.

Occasionally I stop and remember:
"Of course they're right Chloe,
How can you possibly say you don't have deep psychological issues right now?"
But since these dissociative symptoms have started:
I've felt amazing mentally.

I must admit that before that,
I felt pretty bad - bad enough to actually admit and ask for help,
But doesn't that show how I'm "dealing with it",
I don't like people telling me my body's dealing with my psychological feelings physically,
I express myself all the **** time,
And they don't know anything!

I'm sick of the psychoanalysis,
And then them claiming they don't psychoanalyse
On that website they keep telling me to revisit.
They seem to think if you talk about your problems -
They just disappear!
And if you educate yourself on conversion disorders -
The symptoms will finally go away!
I could go through that website,
A thousand times and I will still
Remain to have spasms, tremors
And weakness.

I am managing my thoughts and feelings at the moment,
But that doesn't help me manage my physical symptoms:
They are literally debilitating and unmanageable,
Only they tell me I need to "accept it",
This whole poem is showcasing me doing exactly that.
As many times as I deny thinking that this is a functional illness,
I match referring to it as just that.

It's funny that I write so much,
And almost worship the skill
Yet I haven't felt the need to write about what's been happening for months now.
The reason I finally am in this moment,
Was actually because
I think I'm starting to feel things again,
And now I'm wondering if I've been pushing all of it back,
Which is exactly what they want to hear,
So they can say "your body's expressing it because your mind can't manage it, you need to express and deal with this."
You know what?
I really do wonder what the hell they think that "coping" is!

Maybe they would just say,
I'm avoiding my feelings and memories right now,
By coming to my notes section to seek some peace,
As what they would like to think of as a facade,
All comes crumbling down.

The waves of intensity belong to me,
And as much as I don't always enjoy them,
You can leave them all alone because they're mine,
And you can't tell me how or if I'm handling them properly.
Sometimes I just feel like this is who I am,
This is what I'm prone to,
And if you want me to just get over it then fine,
I didn't seek you out in the first place
So if you want to think that I'm over it,
Then that's okay with me.

You're not supposed to whisper to yourself when you're around food.
It's one of the bad signs;
A warning sign flashing in black and white;
Aspiring to the old commitments.
Are you really trying not to be fine?
I guess you're thinking that it's bad enough already,
So you may as well extend it,
No one is even going to notice.
When they do you'll have been through so much
That they are going to applaud you.
That's a sick thought,
That's what you're thinking
But this poem is you addressing yourself.
See, you're aware of what you're doing.

I like to disappear,
When I go to this place
I will be putting myself there
And I don't know what to wear.
I haven't done this for so long,
When I went to parties then you just wear
Jeans and a t-shirt.
The people invited I see go to parties,
Through pictures formed of pixels on my phone,
The connection to the outside world without leaving my bed;
It's kind of easier I guess.
They wear short dresses
And get way too drunk for their heads.
I'm not sure I have any dress I could wear and fit in with the rest,
Somewhere it takes so much effort to be in.

I ask 'come save me?'
But no ones there,
No one can do a thing.

How can you hide in a bathroom,
To practise your breathing,
If you can't even get up and find it?
And how can I be somewhere crying,
If I will never be alone?
Even if I get to a toilet,
Many people will come and go
Especially with all the alcohol.
The more I try to avoid it,
The faster it's here to destroy me.
How can I be enthusiastic and happy
For my best friend
Because it's her birthday
When I can't say or do a thing?

I'll have to do it one day,
I'll have to do it one day,
But I don't have to if I avoid it everyday.
Who says I need to go to parties?
Not me exactly,
But I can already feel what it will be like
When I'm thirty knowing that I wasted all my teenage and young adult years.
I just can't put up with all the fears.

This time I'm obligated,
By myself, she said she won't force me,
Guessed that I wouldn't becoming,
And I told her I will,
How could I not?
The more I think, the harder it gets.
Part of me at some point thought it might be good to try.
Do I really want to fail in front of that many people?
These are the people I hide from at school.
I don't go to the common room because it's full of other people.

I'm sure they think it's weird,
What I'm like, that is.
I used to constantly be asked
If I was alright,
Just because I was silent at these things.
I pulled a smile and said "yeah, why?"
They spoke about me being quiet, not saying anything.
I said that's all it is,
But it's a social thing.

You've filled up my heart.
You're brightening my soul.
Even just your smile,
Gives me reason to glow.

You cannot possibly know,
How happy that you make me.
I still can't believe,
That I got to see you that day.

You're voice had my heart soaring.
I just can't get over it.
Everything about you,
Is all so perfect.

Also that you hugged me.
You didn't even have to be asked.
You just came along and did it.
But it was still over too fast.

It did last long,
But nothing's ever enough.
Not when you take account of,
How much I love you and not lust.

I guess you could say,
I lust for you too.
My feelings aren't full of lust though.
It's really all just of love.

Now I feel renewed.
Like you've topped my happiness up.
I can't wait until next time,
Because last time was just great.

It's something about your touch,
It's what I love so much,
Its the smell I breathe in,
From your soft and tender skin.

It's not about the others.
I don't care what they say or think,
It's only about you,
And your kindness from within.

If I ever do something wrong,
Know how sorry I'll be.
I'd never mean to hurt you,
In any way at all.

I don't feel like I can,
What's the use?
They all want me to admit I'm broken,
So I keep refusing.
The few times I believe I'm suffering I can't admit,
Because they'll see it as proving them right,
And I need them to understand they've got it all wrong.
I want them to hurt like they've hurt me by their dismissal.
I don't want to see another psychiatrist I just want them to leave me alone,
It's not like they're ever going to help me.
Then there are times I know I just need to keep pushing,
To keep trying to find someone who will believe me,
Someone who won't just say it's because of my anxiety,
Except then my social anxiety comes back,
Because they keep proving to me that there's no way they'll think I'm not just mental.
And maybe sometimes they actually think they're being nice,
But seriously? Are they blind? They would never put up with that themselves.
They push me to my limit,
If it's evident I'm going insane then they should know,
That it's all because of them!
It would drive any emotionally/mentally stable person close to the edge,
But then by wandering over to it, they're proving themselves right,
And I don't want to help them.
They're not helping me.

I just want someone to hear what I'm saying,
And not immediately see "social anxiety"
After all, their labels of "needing psychiatric help" were never there when I needed them,
And I took it like the deepest stab back then,
And now, instead I can't push them away when I don't need them,
I can't escape the "should probably see a psychiatrist", "would probably benefit from counselling" and "symptoms are dissociative and functional"
I can't run fast enough from it -
God knows I can't even run at all,
But professionals tell me that "I can do it" as if I'm making it up,
Or should just try harder.
Do you really think I don't want to be capable of feeding myself food and drink?
At points I could try a thousand percent a thousand times to pick myself up from the floor again,
Will power doesn't work!
It doesn't get rid of physical barriers that everyone else is telling me are some result of trauma, stress or anxiety.

I feel like I've been beaten down so many times already,
I want to find out the truth but I'm too scared of being laughed at,
But I got over that fear that my social anxiety taught me when I first sought help,
I've tried so many times though,
And each time I've guessed the same negative outcome.
It's as if someone really is planning and plotting against me,
Will they not stop till they've gotten me admitted to somewhere I don't belong right now?
Even my reactions would serve as proof to them,
I must just be insane, completely deranged.
"Not normal"
Come on, I won't pretend to miss the meaning of that,
What they really meant was: that's not a mentally healthy person's reaction. Maybe she really is making it up.
The truth is you can't make stuff like this up!
You can't fake shaking the way I do,
Not even more than enough diazepam would cure it.

I know this doesn't help prove my sanity,
And this doubtfully sounds like anything poetic,
It's just I didn't feel like writing, and when I feel sad I can get angry,
I'm just trying to vent and tell the truth,
Because maybe one day, someone who feels as alone and disheartened as me,
Won't feel as bad as I feel.

It's really not glamorous,
And I don't know where I am finding the strength to share this from,
I need to get it out though,
And if anyone who needs to hear this, like me, to find out they are not really all alone reads this and finally feels a glimpse of safety,
Or even to open the eyes of people who wouldn't otherwise understand,
Then maybe this had a purpose.

And if anyone who ever reads this,
Happens to be a doctor,
Or mental health professional:
Please listen.
Please listen to your patients without judgements,
Without immediately linking physical symptoms that sound out of sorts, or that don't make sense, to what it says in their notes about their mental health.
The thing is a lot of people pick and choose what to listen to and when,
And in my experience it always seems to be the wrong choice at the wrong time.
If you have a patient who tells you they desperately need your help,
Or even the ones who are too afraid to ask but are despairingly trying to make you notice, to make you understand what they put up with day by day,
Please, please help them.
And don't you dare tell them, like one told me, to "throw away your crutches, I don't like you using them"
Because you are killing every shred of dignity that they are trying to cling onto.
All we want is to be taken seriously,
WE are trying to get better,
But are you really trying to help us?
You may think you are but perhaps you're probably not.
Please realise, that you're in such a respectful position that it's important how you handle what you say, your responses.
Please understand how you have the power to break vulnerable genuinely sick people.
Please believe people like me and listen when they say they don't think it's psychological.
Please listen.

I feel an urgency to be excited about amazing things
But right now I don't see that happening.
Where I am I only see it darkening
While I remember how great the light was,
But only while it lasted.
Maybe the shadows are getting darker,
Or I'm just getting pathetic.

One of my favourite things is the winter,
But I won't look forward to it
As it will just be ruined again,
Because nothing seems as great as it was.
I'll appreciate it but my state of enjoyment will still be deficient, devastating and dismaying.

Step into the shade little girl,
the sunlight's not too safe.
You're told you're worth everything,
but still your mind will stray.
Sometimes you like to twirl around,
but others you'll stand quiet in the corner.
You may not seem so smart,
but soon you'll prove to be great.
Step into the sunlight little girl,
now is not your time to fade.
It's too late.
You won't show yourself anymore,
and there's too many words you won't say.
Gradually you got watered down,
so now you're a big girl you feel nothing right.
You think what you ever do will always be wrong.
Step into the sunlight little girl,
so you will grow big and strong.

I guess some people are just too amazing to live what’s considered a full life.
Maybe even God gets too jealous to handle the truth.
It cannot be denied that some people who were taken,
Shouldn't have been taken away.

Some people get stolen right away from us.
Leaving us feeling like they've literally been torn from our grasp.
Without them we’re a glass half empty.
We don’t want to say half full because it’s not at all happy.

Everything else is dying around me,
but somehow I'm still here
It's not hopeful and a heart filled with faith drops to the floor
and shatters into a million hurt feelings and angry concealed words that shall not be spoken

Don't hold back your feelings.
Don't hide your pain and tears.
I told you I want all of you,
And your lies are not you my dear.

Everyone has fears,
And you don't need to face them alone.
We can do this together,
If you just tell me what is wrong.

You're my source of comfort.
I want to be the same.
I want to show you real love,
Maybe you can feel okay again.

If I wrap my arms around you,
Would you want them there?
Would you break away the passion,
Or ignite our eternal flame right here?