When we devote our heart to what
phases and appalls us,
we leave no room in our hearts and
sit alone waiting on the people of our
dreams.
So many times we take morality and
mold it into our sculpture of opinion.
We take the image of the natural beauty
our friends arrive to take us and photoshop
beauty queens, anorexic girls, naked men,
and clear skinned bashful humans.
We look the way we do,
but we’re not done yet.
Split ends are the representation of a
woman who works hard to earn her
dream and live her destiny one day.
A teenager with blemishes enters the
school doors and cracks quirky jokes
and makes an eight grade girl laugh;
she who is fourteen and feels no inferiority
despite her flat chest and gap tooth.
He is not the fat boy who everybody loves,
he is a human being and is here for the same
reason any model,
rockstar,
dancer,
athlete,
actor,
and Olympian is here
today.
Can we look the way we do and feel as if
we need no photoshop on what is really on
us?
It’s all about
what is
in us.

I need you to stay.
One of us should not be the
breaking point.
I've had surrounding folks before,
but none of them were the right ones.
It's you,
and me,
Us,
We,
Love,
Drama,
Over.
The floor boards are cracking every time
you leave.
I don't want to throw away the candy wrappers.
Next time leave the wine here.
Never think we won't do this again.
I'll only suggest.

As I read and searched you since we
departed to a transition that
choked me and relieved you,
breathing was only by
forgetting our precious little
drama.
I wanted so bad to shake your
hand like we used to but you
had too many others to hold.
I tricked myself into thinking I was
happy for you when really I couldn't
sleep at night.
I saw what you said and I could sense
I'd ruin your life if we stayed in touch.
I had too much work and you
had too much to drink that night.
I laid down to rest after a tough day and
you laid back down in your bed of roses
where you fell into since we departed.
I'm ok now,
I have no need for that precious little
drama.
You want none of my swinging and I
hate when you're shooting.
You use it on me by taking another girl.
By the way, are you still talking to her?
Or is there someone new like always in
your life.
This precious little drama is all on you.
Don't come running back when your roses
die and she doesn't call.
By now nobody should be surprised as you
hang at bars alone and intoxicate yourself
forgetting you're punishing not pushing yourself to grow stronger.
I'm strong, why aren't you?

If the person you are phases to many,
think of it as quality and **** the
quantity.
Laughter is good for our muscles and
head.
Seriously “cool” people don’t want us to
be dead.
They want us to bump down as they bump
up to be complemented and fawned.
If God is never here then maybe it is
diversity where happiness lies upon.

To the woman proposed by a married man.
To a twelve year old boy not knowing why
he kicked a beer can.
To a sixteen year old girl who really needs
an older man.
To a father who can’t say yes to his daughter
he’ll always be her number one fan.

Stay dry, be wet and comfortable.
Laugh like the rain and be unstoppable.
Walk away, keep your head high to the sky.
Never wrong with spending a night in the summer
with some coffee and pumpkin pie.
Say what is real, just don’t make it about you.
Let others have their share, and watch dreams come true.

To the parent who gives nothing but complements.
To the girl who **** talks among other boys.
To the boy who **** talks among other girls.
To the family who gives each other the business.

Ok, there’s a limit.
Take your time but never for granted.
Tell the critics to take a break.
They may or may not have lives and that’s
no piece of cake.
Take the computer and turn it into your
guide.
Design graphics and games and let the players
show your pride.
Hear the piano, bass, drum, guitar,
write a song and tell the world
who you are.
Lace up the shoes and run in the rain.
Go as fast as you can and show your pain.

Lets make this clear,
there shall not be fear,
we are not out to get,
we just need to let.
Keep pushing through,
whether you’re in eight grade
or at a college that is new,
look back and know you grew,
but most of all,
you do you.

I’m a little different, and you say you are as well.
I have no money in my purse, and you have no job to keep you secure.
I live with my family, and you live with yours,
so no fun in the house wherever we go.
I write but I have no fame, you throw baseballs at trees and are not
a pro.
We sit under a tree where we don’t have to pay a meter.
We walked twelve miles to this park and I got dressed up for this.
You put a little flower in my hair, and I lay on your chest.
I want to love someone and not be cliché but respect our friends.
I want to be loved by someone who accepts everything.
I want to love someone who is unafraid.
A guitar is too big to carry on this trip, and there to our left is a metal picnic table.
Come with me, take these small wooden sticks from the tree,
find the bar on the bench, and play me a song.
Play me a little tune from the object in the present.
We are present, we are here, and the xylophone is what we shall make out of this ugly back metal picnic table.
I’ll dance upon the table and hear you play.
A little song,
for little time,
the first date is the scariest era of love.
Will I spend the rest my life with you?
This would be the greatest thing anyone would do
for me.
Play me a song as I dance for you and we learn within space and earnestly living in the present time.
When it starts to rain and your instrument rusts, carry me home, and play me a song
with your voice even if you are not singing.
Trust me,
I want to hear it.