I wish you came with an instruction manual, because loving you makes no sense.

I take that back because even if you did it would probably be written in German.

I try to put together pieces and all I see is handle with care but when I reach out, your body language says "don't touch me there." Not physically, not emotionally, and when I try mentally you yell "get out of my brain." Even in the same atmosphere our breathing is not the same.

I cling to your exhale and forget that I need to inhale. I pray that you're alive not worried about my imminent death, because once again, loving you just doesn't make sense.

Maybe if you had come with subtitles, I could love you better. So that I could read what you say instead of hear it, since the two never seem to be the same.

You make me feel deaf. And that would be okay if only American Sign Language was enough to make you stay. Why can't you just say how you feel so I can feel what you say?

You drown me with complacency and get mad when I can't stay afloat.  You're screaming you can't handle this yet ask me why I'm walking towards the door.

We were supposed to be two beats, and one heart. I was supposed to love you right, but I don't know how..

You came with no instruction manual.

Loving you just doesn't make sense.

I want to be in love with a tattooed boy, so tall,
Or a fierce, strong girl, sugar sweet.
I want someone to hold me at night and whisper sweet somethings,
So much more than nothings.
I want them to write me notes more beautiful than any poem could be.
I want to be cherished by someone I can call "darling",
But most of all, I don't want to be in love with you.
I wish it weren't true, but somehow I've fallen in love
With a stubborn girl who says she loves me,
Who flirts and teases and cuddles and squeezes,
But wants to be "just friends".

There's been a shooting in North London today -
Ugly girls with nothing but ****** to their name
"You shouldn't be outside," she said to me
But there are stars in my eyes and I can't ******* see
like blood down my throat and I called myself to act
a Monster's actions is what makes a Monster that-
So his gun, his knife, my razor, my prayers
Too many diamonds in these suburban stares
this world is a poison and to **** is to cure
That'd teach ******* like me what it means to be impure -
I have a world in my mind where the skies are mine
and now I wouldn't have to leave it, not this time
Quickly now, you'll be pretty once you're dead
you looked a bit like a boy from the book he'd read
brushing doll hair with tobacco stained fingers
the one thing you knew was the stench of smoke lingers.