There are always first times for things
Like the first time you took a step
Unguided by your parents
The first time you were kissed
By someone who wasn't family
Or even the first time you learnt to ride a bike
Without the training wheels on

But there are also first times for things that didn't
Like the first time your mother didn't tell you goodnight
Because she was too busy and forgot
The first time you didn't celebrate you birthday
Because you were getting too old
Or the first time you didn't see someone you love
Because they were no longer alive

And the worst part about these first times
Is that you don't see them coming
They are what always follow
The last times that you never expect

*But sometimes the first time you didn't do something
Can be more painful then the last time you did something

"Please don't leave"

She just gives me a look
But thats all she needs
To show all her feelings

"How can I be leaving
if i was never really here
in the first place"*

Her voice filled with sadness
As she turns away
Walking with sure steps

I watch her back
As she walks out the door
Tears rolling down my face

<
The light bulb flickers and then goes out
Just when you think its gone for good
It stutters back on
Its bright light spreading across the room once again
>
The girl suffers, struggling to stand tall
Just when she has fallen
And you think she's down for the count
She gets back up with a smile to show all
<
You know that one day the light won't turn back on
And the room will be filled with darkness
Until the day you buy another
Replacing the old with something brand new
>
You know that one day she will not get back up
And she will be defeated and lost.
Until the day that you decide to help her up
Out of the sympathy in your heart
<
But the new bulb will never be quite the same
It will always be a slightly different shade of light
Never quite as bright as it use to be
>
But the girls smile will never be quite the same
It will always have a slightly different feeling behind it
Never quite as big as it use to be

^
**But just because its different
Doesn't mean we don't love it just as much
It's special in its own unique way.
There is no way a replacement could ever be the same,
So you shouldn't expect it to be

There was a young boy
A child as lost as one could be
He did not know who he was
Or his reason to be

The boy found a room
The room had no purpose
No reason to be
But it was still there
Like it was just meant to be

In the room he found a mirror
The mirror had no point
No reason to be
But it was still there
Like it just didn't even care

Above the mirror he found a sign
The sign had no explanation
No reason to be
But it was there
Like it just belonged

On the sign he found writing
The words had no meaning
No reason to be
But they were still there
Like they were just meant to be read

The boy read the writing
Trying to find an answer
To find who it was
That made him feel so lost

But after reading that writing
Upon the sign that belonged
Above the mirror that didn't care
In the room that was meant to be
He no longer needed to find an answer

The boy who turned away
From the mirror that didn't care
And walked out
Of the room that was meant to be

He what not lost
But all so not found
He was someone with a purpose
Someone who had found meaning to their life
He knew what he had to do


*'The mirror will reflect your greatest enemy' read the sign

There is mask I wear to cover my face,
A mask that I can never replace.
I know my mask will keep me hidden,
From showing my feelings that should be forbidden.

When tears fall from my eyes,
My mask will only show lies.
Sometimes I wish I could to be true,
And show people that they haven't got a clue.

But later I know it is all worthwhile,
When I can finally show my real smile.

I hear the creaking of a door in my mind.
I couldn't help but feel inclined,
To look behind,
And see what I might find.

But I did not think,
that it would be my well of ink.
I couldn't help but make a link,
To an old kitchen sink.

When I saw that inkwell,
I needed to quell,
The fear that fell,
Upon me as my very own barbell.

I knew what it mean,
And that it was not its intent,
To torment,
But I wish that it would relent.

So I could just spend,
Sometime to amend,
And apprehend,
The part of me that has reached a dead end.

Often the ones who hate themselves the most,
Are the very same people who are the most loving.
They give out their love like giving bread to birds,
They throw it all away and forget to keep any for themselves.
That is why it is up to us to give them some of our bread,
no matter how stale,
To those amazing people who have nothing left to eat.