I wore a wristwatch once to cover something from my Mother.

Even if she saw it, she'd probably believe it was from skateboarding.

I don't skateboard.

Regret,
sorrow
&
despair.

This is all life,
seems
to give.

So why
should we
care?

Drink.
Dream.
Do.

Whatever it takes to get you through this.
Or take a bullet in the brain,
with a big ******' smile.
:)

Sometimes I can fancy my mind,
as a glistening cage. Filled with beautifully
painted birds, fluttering about from bar
to bar. Feeding on the debris blown through
the thin golden bars. I find these birds to
be incredibly different, each of their
songs uniquely tuned.

The navy bird with blackened eyes, can bring
the cage itself to tears. While the pure white dove
fills the air with hope, and the rose-winged mocking
jay swells the heart.

In the corner rests the speckled bird,
a creature of random, jumbled notes. His eyes
stare blindly at the other birds. His voice screeching
over theirs without warning. Above and to the side
of him, sits a elderly gray-feathered gent. His
songs hint at paths already taken, happier
times now gone and past.

Finally, there is a creature, red as blood-bathed
rubies. Its eyes are ever watching, its wing always
pinned for flight. From her beak drips poison, a deadly
song slowly spun. Her temper suffocates the surrounding
air. Choking out the other birds if they should wander near.

All these birds sing their songs, fluff their wings and play their parts.
When needed most of all, they join in a chorus. Their voices
blending in disorganized harmony. I try to pick about the noise.
Piece together the notes and figure out the message. Yet, the only
lyrics that are ever clear, come tainted with the spit of my red
pet. Why must my thoughts be jumbled so?

When will my birds learn to live as one?

Saying goodbye
To someone you love
Is like reading the final page
Of an amazing book.

As the last chapter ends
You begin to notice
Just how beautiful
And perfect
The plot always was.  

You appreciate the joy
And even the pain
As you read and thumb
Through every page.

Finally understanding
The moral of the story,
You realize you've reached
The end of this journey.

Although the last sentence  
Is the most difficult to read
Another great book awaits
Once you turn the final page.

Eventually you may stumble
Upon yet another great find.
Or maybe you'll return
To the book you left behind.

You may just discover
Once all is said and done
That this particular book  
Was your favorite story
All along.

He feels the same pain that she does
Which makes her feel sad because...
The mask she wears,
he takes off and puts on,
But she sees the cuts behind the sleeve
Along with the smile that everyone believes.

I'm that one girl, who sits in the back of the class.
Just so I can go unnoticed, make my life last.
I always hide in my room.
Just so I don't get beaten, and bruised.
The kids at school, call me worthless, and stupid.
The teachers, say I don't try, but I do try...
I try my hardest at everything, but they don't seem to notice.
My sibling's all they do is torture me.
As if they feed off of my pain, and fear.
I'm that one girl, who only wears ear buds.
To block out the voices of anger, and hurt.
My arms, are not that clean, or neat.
I'm not pretty, and when I say that I mean it.
Maybe I'm not worth it, maybe I'm just a piece of *******.
I am stupid, and I have come to believe it.
Maybe I really don't try hard enough, and I am not trying harder.
My sibling's can feed off me all they want, I don't care anymore.
I've taken my ear buds out, and I'm listening to the screaming of hate.
Yeah my arms are cut, and they will always be cut.
Yes I am not pretty, and that's the truth.
But I am me, and that's okay.