You know less when you think you know more

There is a woman known far and wide
For the pleasures she brings to those by her side
She is always here, her presence inescapable
I can never avoid her tragic parable

Her beautiful glow distracts from her other reputation
Her influence has its hold on my entire nation
I can never understand why someone so hated
Has both men and woman so easily baited

She seduces people with false promises of comfort
But makes them lonely and depressed, rejecting any cohort
Leaving no one to return to but her
It seems everyone I love prefers this loathsome flavor

From my earliest memories
To present day
I have always filled the emptiness
Found in any situation
With incredible adventures
Fabricated by the imagination
Some of them would be a dream of envy
Wishing to escape my own world
But no matter what book, movie, or story I entered
They would eventually fall apart as they grew tiresome
Because there is nothing substantial in envy
Even in the fun it could bring
Reality will always win against our dreams
But dreams give us the conviction
To work towards our desires
The other variety my dreams came in
Was that of exitment and curiosity
About how a situation would or could unravel in reality
These dreams took take place in my world
Still, they would fade as well
Because the moment and opportunity that I dreamt of
Would eventually pass
Whether it had gone the way I imagined or not
At the end of the day
Our dreams are no more, and no less
But if there's one thing I've learned from them
It's that all of our stories
Are something we write
Even if they're affected by outside influences
And the one story that will stick by you
Is the one we call reality

A cry for help is ugly
For those who cry discreetly
And those who cry out loud
No matter the extent of pain
It is always justified
Because we all deserve a warm hug
Or a quiet and sympathetic presence

A cry for help is ugly
Because it reminds us of our own pain
It reminds us of how we think
That we don't deserve help
Because kids are starving somewhere

A cry for help is lonely
Because it is ignored, or transparent
Because it thinks itself ugly as well
Because it is helpless
Hated
Jumbled
And nonsensical

A cry for help is ugly
Because we can not feel each other's pain
But we can feel each other's fear
And most of the time
Like a human being
We care

The pain that clouds the mind
And stifles the words
Choking on a feeling of being undeserving
And drowning in a sea of self loathing

A cry for help is ugly
Because it is the ultimate form of desperation
It is a trust that reaches out for anyone
And the responsibility over another
Is a terrifying thing

Defiantly
I open my umbrella indoors
I soak up the judgmental stares
As if they were praise
For I do not let fear run my life

If hating someone because they are black is ignorant
Then shouldn't it be the same for cats?
If there's no use crying over spilled milk
Then why should we over salt?

Bad things are going to happen
Even if I spend my whole life without a mirror
Or continue throwing salt over my shoulder
Bad things will happen
So instead of blaming them on whatever
I'd rather face them head on

Because one day my mirror will break
My salt will dissolve
And my umbrella will fall apart
But until my last part stops working
I will always be able to get more

I believe in opening my umbrella indoors
So that I can be ready
Ready for the rain outside
And the rain inside