DRIP, DROP, DRIP, DROP
the rain smashes against the window,
it's beautiful.
BOOM,BOOM,BOOM*
light illuminates the dark sky,
it makes me think.
past,present,future.
flowing like a tidal wave and
it's knocking me down.
i'm falling under the water,
i can't see.
i take my final breath.
darkness.

I'm the piece of paper you throw in the trash.
Crumple it up, say goodbye to the past.

I'm the canvas no one ever bought.
  Hidden behind, I never mind.

I'm the rock you try to skip.
Jump once, deep down I die.

I'm the spelling error on your spelling test.
Negative one, heat in my chest.

I'm merely a number
A dead heart with ripped strings.
A book with no cover.

A soul without color.

They look at me and all they see is a boy.
They don't  see how depression took my emotions and turned them
inside out.
They don't see the tears in my eyes when I see couples and remember that I can never have that because I can't feel love.
They don't see the way I struggle to shove the motivation to get up everyday out of my body like a tornado that's killing everything in it's path.
When I'm older and people see me they will not see a boy,
they will see a corpse.

He often sat alone.
Known by none, liked by none.
He was shy,
never looked in the eye.
He was falling,
falling from the sky.
But, the sky wasn't.
It was more.
It was the constant fear he got when
others whispered loud enough to barely hear,
it was the 12% he got on a test because he was stressed.
It was life.
He lived like a knife;
always used for the simple things,
but was nothing for the hard.
You used him to butter the bread,
but his was still burnt.
Oh, what a shame.
He should've learnt.

My reality is different than yours.
So much more, so much less.
My reality is looking at cars and
wanting to jump in front of them,
my reality is staring at stars and
wishing to be them.

My reality is so much more and so much less.
Not much love, a lot more hate.

My reality is simply to wait.

Sometimes I feel like  I'm nothing
and sometimes I feel like I'm not.

Sometimes I feel like a teenager
and sometimes I plain out forgot.

Sometimes I act like I'm happy
and sometimes ignore that I'm not.

Sometimes I think I'm okay,
but most times I realize I'm not.

Sometimes not being makes us
be.