A muddled mind
Makes no sense
And that is why
It is the best
At seeing things
Illogical
And making them
Psychological.

A scrambled brain
Has the best ideas
Even when
It’s full of fuzz.
The brilliant
Have narrow scopes
They only predict
What they hope.
No one will know
What I am thinking
Neither do I
I’m just the one who’s inking.

Hope is when
The sun rises high
When you don’t want it to.

Numbness is
Being a statue
On a battlefield.

Face the world
With your head up high.
That’s who I used to be.
That girl was fun
That girl was kind
That girl used to be me.

I faced the world
With my head held high
Until I saw things
I didn’t want to see.
That little girl
Is long gone now
But I miss her
Because she used to be free.

I’ve been told
“No one expects you to be perfect.”
A lot.
So many times, in fact,
That it has lost it’s meaning.

Because, the thing is:
No one expects me to be perfect
But can you look me in the eye
And tell me
No one expects me
To at least be “okay”?

Meet Expectations.
She is bubbly and happy
Sensitive and sappy
And she lives all in her own world.

Problems are like flies to her:
Pesky annoyances
She’d rather ignore.

Expectations is fun to hang around sometimes
Until her ideals start to
Weigh you down sometimes.

Riding the wave
Is all fun and games
Until the wave knocks you down
And under the water you drown.