Listen to the silence
It could open up your mind
Things inside your heart
Could be unwrapped and you will find

Listen to the raindrops
They could speak up a thousand words
How they could test your strength
You would catch a million swords

Listen to the wind
It could tell you a new story
A heart that makes a confession
Saying the mending word- sorry

Listen to my melody
It could be a song of pain
Seclusion maybe the best option
If someone dear will gain.

you know that thing you find in life
and never want to let go?
well, i think i found mine
by the sea out in the cold.

and it did not take me long to know
that i cannot live without it.

innocent as in not having done
not as in not having known
i always knew
and it made me sad
but know ive done
and i hate that im fine with it
not because its wrong
but because i am
and now i cant stop
im telling myself im above it all
but i know it rules over me
but thats fine
what is going on

there's a certain pier
out there
that dangles off the east side
of a certain island
that i would without hesitation call 'home'

if you sat out there in the middle of the night
just for kicks for the first time
you'd be slapped around by the angry cliff wind
you'd be overwhelmed by the sea rot
and you'd be threatened the lapping of dark freezing waves
right underneath you in the spaces between the creaky wet beams
and it's all screaming at you to get up and leave

but if you are like me and her
you'd stay
we always decide to stay

we snuck out there late at night
and we found that there's more to the pier than the wind and the smell and the
cold and darkness
we found that there is just enough space
between the windblown wood poles and salt crusted cables
for two beautiful people to squeeze between and dangle their feet
over the edge
to laugh at that cold water and speak streaks of light into it's darkness
we found that there's just enough starlight to take a fuzzy picture
of ripped jeans and flannels and knotted dishwater hair
and a pair of glasses

i didn't know that i could talk to someone the way i learned to talk on the pier
it taught me
He taught me
she taught me

Every day, I wake up.
Everyday, I must prepare myself for what  lies ahead.

The first step into the chill morning air always bites,
But not a much as the stares of my classmates.
The pain of my sprained ankle screams,
But not as much as the voices in my head.
The blast of my music hurts my ears,
But not as much as the whispers do.
The exhaustion makes me want to cry,
But not nearly as much as the stress.

Everyday I enter,
Everyday I leave.

Friends joke about the pressure I have on me,
But they have no idea.
People question why I always have my notebook,
But they don’t try to understand.
Teachers are upset when I miss assignments,
But they don’t know what’s truly missing.
My instructors tell me to sing my heart out,
But it seems I no longer have a voice.

Everyday for eight hours I face my greatest fears.
Everyday for twenty-four, people don’t know I have them.