I kissed a boy
who's mother beat him
and who went home at night to his little baby sister
and prayed that she would never end up with a guy like him

I kissed a boy
who's mother neglects him
and spends all his time
wishing and waiting for what could have been

I kissed a boy
who's mother just let him
do whatever he wants to women,
because that is what his father believed also

I kissed a man
who's mother respects him
and who treats a lady with care and gratitude
putting her own needs before his own

The first boy I kissed,
he touched me when I said no

The second boy I kissed,
he lied and broke me whole

The last boy I kissed,
was nearly twice my height and age

The first man I kissed,
he loved me for every page

Now if this doesn't tell you
the love of a mother,
I am not quite sure what will.
Just because you
got treated like a *****
doesn't mean your son
should treat women as that still.

delightful*                                                      (pleasing, full of delight)
dreamy                                                ­         (peaceful, abstracted from reality)
demure                                                ­         (reserved, modest)
distant                                                ­           (seperated in space/mind)
delirious                                                ­        (not able to think or speak clearly)
dangerous                                             ­        (able or likely to cause injury, pain, harm, etc)
daunting                                                  ­     (tending to make people afraid or less confident )
destructive                                                    (causing a very large amount of damage)
decrepit                                               ­          (weak/fragile, not strong enough)

dead                                                ­            (my father/heart/hope)

Would you still say it
if I were standing before you,
fresh mascara staining your favorite sweater
and scars to show for a cause unknown ?

I stole a bottle of beer from the fridge
I chugged about half the bottle
but I didn't like the taste
so I threw it out the window
and then I threw myself out as well
and I went to pick up the leaking bottle
and I drank it still, even though I didn't like the taste
and I fell asleep in the cold, and I think I cried
and tears made their way down my cheek and into my parted lips
and I didn't like the taste
but I continued crying, anyways
and in the morning my brother handed me some medicine
that he promised would make my head feel better
so I took it from him and swallowed
but I didn't like the taste
so I went and found another beer in the fridge
to down the medicine with
and even though I didn't like the taste
I got used to it.

You think                                        the clothes that I wear define who I am?
You think                                        that all I amount to is a simple word - emo, goth, scene
You think                                        that there is something wrong with not being okay?

I think                                              that you do not understand
                                                         what it is like
                                                         to have your whole entire existence
                                                         on this earth
                                                         defined
                                                         by one
                                                         word

I can tell you how to write sad poems,
all my favorite songs that make me cry. . .
I can recommend movies that end in a suicide note
or books, where the character never does learn how to fly.

I would lend you the eyeliner that is most smear-resistant
for the days that you have to sneak away to the public restroom, lock yourself in a stall, and finally let the emotions out. . .
I can talk about my old car and the boys I've kissed in it
and how they took advantage without a doubt.

And yet I will always say I'm doing good when you ask
and promise there is a brighter side to life
because you do not have to be clever to make yourself a mask,
there just need be a (false) sense of contentment in your eyes.