just once
I want to be called beautiful
I wont believe you anyways
but i'll want to
just once I want you to tell me i'm worth it
I won't trust you
but i'll try
just once I want you to see me
i'll pretend you weren't looking at me
but i'll know
just once I want to be told i'm perfect
flaws included
but I won't believe you

Was the wrong stage set beneath these feet?
All the unscripted acts, now performed,
but was the entrance mistimed?

Once, a meager mime graced the scene,
expressions neat, steps rehearsed,
a puppet bound to careful strings,
a character fit for all audiences.
Poised, polished, precise—
a show designed to please.

Now, a jekyll jester takes its place,
lips painted with reckless humor,
words spun like juggling pins,
falling in awkward places.

Punchlines miss their mark,
laughter echoes alone.

Missteps once brought fear,
so the scripted cues remained,
routine ensuring a place ahead
before the curtain call.

Now, an offbeat dance unfolds,
improvised lines fill the air,
a breathless chase through scenes
with no clear ending.

Sorrow once hid backstage,
sealed behind a practiced mask,
never seen beneath the paint.

Now, the heart takes center stage,
a tragicomedy in full display,
A jumbled mess of uncertainty,
but the applause never comes.

Joy was the chosen act,
yet joy is met with distance.
The absurd was embraced,
yet absurdity earns no encore.

Laughter rings, the fool plays on—
but the world does not laugh along.

So tell—
is freedom worth the empty seats,
the dance worth the fading light,
or should the mime have remained,
safe in a role that was never real?

I lie
and
I lie
and
I lie

I hide my behavior
to keep you safe.

I keep quiet
not to offend you.

I agree with you
to keep you happy.

I walk on eggshells
for you and
it’s never enough.

I lie
and
I lie
and
I lie

but when the truth
arrives at that
final moment;

jaws will drop
plates will shatter
dogs will growl

and
you’ll be long gone
after seeing what
a ghastly beast
I am

but for now

I lie
and
I lie
and
I lie

to keep us
together.

She was too harsh that day,
anger spilling over,
words sharper than she meant them to be.
Regret followed, heavy and unshaken.

She reached out, hoping to mend,
hoping to understand.
He told her he never loved her that way—
not in the way she had thought, had hoped.

Suddenly, she was her mother,
he was her father,
and the past repeated itself
without her even realizing.

She doesn’t blame him.
They were never meant to work—
she, a heart that longs for love,
he, a heart that can’t feel it the same way.

Still, it stung.
How easily he let go,
how little she seemed to matter.
She wanted a fight, a reason to stay,
but all she got was silence.

She told him she was in a bad place back then,
how it made everything feel heavier,
how she loved him more than she should have.
The hurt was real,
even if the reasons weren’t simple.

Now, they are something,
not quite friends, not quite strangers.
Maybe this is better—
to know, rather than wonder,
to speak, rather than hear his name in passing.
She hopes she made the right choice.

They called her names for daring to change,
mocked the glint of her piercings, the ink-black nails—
her armor, her manifesto,
a battle line drawn between truth and illusion.
Their whispers slithered through locker rooms,
hushed and sharp, as if difference were a disease.
She bore their labels like a shield,
choosing solitude over shallow smiles,
each sideways glance cutting her off,
yet somehow making her feel more herself.

But words carve deeper than stares.
Their venom lingered, a slur that curdled in her veins.
They didn’t know—couldn’t see—
the fear curled beneath her practiced grin,
how a friend’s laughter could falter,
how a gaze could harden overnight.
She already felt foreign within her own home,
navigating silences sharper than shouts,
enduring their quiet cruelty with every breath.

Now, new laws shadow her steps,
his promises forging unseen chains.
Will she always be an exile here?
Once cherished, once safe,
now cast aside—
a distorted reflection in their narrowed eyes.

Friendships fracture in an instant,
split by forces beyond her reach.
Chained not by choice, but by love,
trapped in a space too small to grow,
wondering if she will ever be free.

She held his hand because it felt right,
because it was expected,
but every touch lingered too long,
every moment is too heavy.

She told him, in quiet ways,
where the line was drawn—
not in anger, not in fear,
but in hope that he would listen.
He didn’t see the lines,
only the space between them.

Not cruel, not forceful,
just unaware, just moving forward
when she needed to stay still.
She let him in,
more than she wanted to,
more than she should have.
And when she finally pulled away,
she thought he would feel the absence.

But he didn’t.
He walked away untouched,
unburdened,
while she sat with all that had been unintentionally taken.