If I could bring memories into actuality,
into this distrustful reality.
I'd dream up the people I love and the people I've loved.
I'd gaze at them and remember what I realized
when love became loved.

Sometimes we tolerate the feeling of love
while we're dealing with the hatred emitting from another's hand
and we can continue slowly dying like a piece of coal in a burning fire
or we can rise up and become the flame.

I loved you,
but I was just a thorn
and you were a rose.

Sit next to me and whisper your secrets into my ear.
Utter to me every weakness you possess.
Give me the chance to hear the stutter in your heartbeat,
allow me to taste your sweet, sweet love
then cut off my tongue.

Isn't it sad?
We can't even go to our pride
or our safe place without being hunted.

Dear somebody,

my therapist told me to write to you.
She said it would give me sight,
make me see what's wrong in my life.
But, I can't see.
I'm blinded by the words they throw at me,
I can't hear because the voices keep telling me,
let go.
I'm drifting.
Trying to lift my arms.
But, I can't.
I try to shift,
but I'm frozen.
Is this what it feels like to be chosen by death?
To feel the breath of darkness on my neck.
To look sorrow in the eyes.

Is this how it feels to live?
'Cause I don't feel very **alive.

When we first met I thought we were soulmates,
simple people with an even simpler love.
I was wrong.
We were not easy people,
our love wasn't easy.
We were complex.

You held constellations in your veins
and flowers in your bones.
I was a graveyard of everything horrible,
with blood pouring from my finger tips
and sorrow dripping from my eyes.

We weren't soulmates,
our love wasn't infinite,
we didn't have a happy ending.

But, we found ourselves.
People say when you're lost
look for the north star.
I found you
and I know,
**** don't I know.
That people can't be stars
but, you were.

You were.

I'm not good with feelings,
I'm horrible at goodbyes.
I sit alone in my room
and pass time with cries.
The society we live in,
so small and so broken.
I'd rather  be bruised by
words left unspoken
and to think that once it was much
worse than this,
would make me believe
someone took a hit and miss.

And at nights all alone when I stare at the sky,
I think of the kids and how they all died.
A knife to the throat
A hit to the eye
A gun to the head
A sigh then a bye

I can't help,
but think what all of them missed when they died
and gave their last kiss.
Were all of them loves?
Or none at all?
Did all of them die
with a break in their cry?

Reality is a prison
and they were done serving.
Maybe that means the tables are turning.

Look into the mirror,
see the young eyes.
So naive that you'll fall for her lies.
She'll tell you she 'loves you',
that you're her sun and her moon.
She'll pump her 'love' into your veins
and like a drug, you're not immune.
She'll act smug as your heart breaks
and tears at the seams.

Watch as you forget what love really means.

Life's glazing by
and we're all slowly dying,
but we'll breathe deep
because at least we're still trying.

Dear America,
you're electing a racist.
Oh, why can't you see?!
The country you stand in,
is no longer free.

Symbols for Muslims,
just like the Jewish.
It's ****** all over,
history rewritten.
Don't let people die
because of your mistakes.
Realize that Trump is a disgrace.
Wake up, please.
Sincerely,
A Canadian Boy who doesn't want
to watch history repeat itself

In ninth grade, she shined a light in your heart
and you couldn't tell if it was real or not.
You spent life like that for two years.
She was there for all your panic attacks
and depressed nights, but then she broke you.
She took a sledgehammer named "Cheat"
and broke your heart into millions of pieces.
Your depression got worse
and you were breaking down every day,
but you still taped the heart up.
It was broken, but it still worked.
You spent your time planning ways
to avoid going by her classes,
you stopped going to the cafeteria
and ate lunch outside by your lonesome.
You were alone again, but you didn't feel it.
Because, the tape from your heart fell off one by one
every time you see her with her new boyfriend.
So one night when everything got too much,
you ran away into the woods behind your house.
You went back to the tree that you and her carved,
you drew a broken heart on a piece of paper
and signed it "**** Me" with your name.
You didn't want to make a note because
you weren't good at writing and
you didn't know how to explain it.
Then you jumped into the cold river,
watching the moons reflection until your final breath.
You were at peace.

They told me I could become anything, so I
became dead

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.

It's unfortunate really.
How someone can be so involved in your life one minute and the next, not even be there. How someone can go from a lover to a stranger in seconds and even though you know they aren't coming back you can't help, but wait for that phone call or text from them. You walk by that old place you used to hang out at and it all comes rushing back;
The smiles,
the laughter,
the fights,
the cries,
the heartbreak
and lastly, the pain.
It all comes rushing back and you sit there and take it because you know it's never going to end. It's always going to be there, sitting like background noise.
And that,
is the catastrophic feeling of missing you.

Life is swirling, my mind is twirling and I'm done.
I'm done with the pain from my brain, a constant train.
Chug Chug. But, I want it to stop. I want to drop, skid to a stop and yell that this is hell. I dwell on the smell of the lies and denies, the cries and the sighs. The light in my eyes has started to die.
I'm just a boy learning to fly,
living in a world that money can buy.

Let's talk about that dreaded subject that students hate and probably wish wasn't real. Let's talk about School.

I don't understand it.
We sit in a boring room for six or more hours and 'learn' about stuff that most of us won't use when we're finished. Then, to make it all worse; they decide to test us. A couple letters to define us. They split us off into A's and F's, like it's a label. Like it matters, but it doesn't. Oh, **** it doesn't.
I know what you're thinking; "Oh, you're just a teenager. You're just lazy and don't understand." Yeah, I may be a teenager, but I still have the ability to realize when my time is being wasted. I don't want my time to be wasted. I've spent more of my life in a crumby, stuffy school room than with my family.
The education system is flawed and I'm not the only one who sees it.
I want to direct you to a video on Youtube titled "Don't Stay In School." uploaded by a Youtuber by the name of BoyInABand.
Listen to it. Listen to the whole thing and then tell me if you think the education system is perfectly fine because news flash, it's not.
Now I'll direct you to another video; "I Will Not Let An Exam Result Decide My Fate" by Suli Breaks. Listen to it.

School isn't about learning anymore. It's about passing.
What about the kids who can't memorize formulas and specific dates? Should we just sit there and fail? No, because we're not learning. And, sure, teachers will tell you to get a tutor or go to them for extra help, but most of the time it never works. At least not for me.

I can't memorize for ****, so I suffer.
You don't need to go to school to get an education.
The way I see it? School is school. If you want to go to school then that's cool, but don't **** on the people who dropout of school.

You know that little, interesting yet surprisingly weird website called Tumblr and the founder; David Karp. He dropped out of high school and look where he is now.

Don't knock down the players just because they don't understand the game.

She wore heavy sweaters and wrote letters to a boy
who called her a bore.
She sent them day after day, night after night hoping
she might hear back from him.
And as she signed the last letter, number 346, she signed with a
small p.s at the bottom;

"Why don't you love me anymore?"

She wrote letters to a boy who didn't care,
he read letters with a hard stained glare.

Dusk met Dawn.
and without one,
the other couldn't exist.
Their lives were like novella's,
short and sweet.

The day Dusk met Dawn,
the day that perpetual love fell.

We're the children of the world.
Our voices are toneless
and our bodies, boneless.
Our screams are soft
and, the crying is quiet.
Manners are known,
but often not used
because our views on the world
give us the blues.

They call us reckless, but don't they know?
There's more wreck than less.

People ask me why I write, but
there simply is no answer.

I write because it makes me feel like a dancer,
like a camper building a tent.

I write because when nothing makes sense
I can write a picket fence poem about
how it feels to be mimicked.

I write because when I feel a slight bit of worth
it makes me feel like the earth is in my hands
waiting for me to complete my life plan.

I write because when I can't see the sun
I can write the sun.

I write simply because words can give a spark,
even when you're feeling dark.

He went to school unnoticed
and often lacked focus.
Not because he didn't care,
but because focus was quite rare.
His life filled with pills.
Trying to **** his ADHD,
but only killing his sanity.

People often said he lacked focus,
but how can you lack something that was never intact?

Things are really ******,
but not all flowers
are pretty

Cars and lightning
don't scare me
anymore.

I created my brain from all of my pain,
I corrected my thoughts through many tied knots.
I'm still here, existing even though my life is twisting constantly.

And; late at night when I think about
the kids who couldn't live another day,
I often question what I'd give to bring them back.
It's not the fact that I didn't know them that
makes me want them back, but the way they
had to act. Because long ago, this little boy had
to act. This little boy had to act everyday. We all had to act.
We acted as if we were staring in a movie that never finished.

**We were known for the roles we played.

Speaking leads to seeking and
I'd rather wander than seek
because seeking gives you
expectations and wandering
leaves you with beautiful creations

Silence has always been a talent of mine. I’m not saying I can’t speak because I can, most of my embarrassing moments come from when I speak.  I’m only saying that if I couldn’t speak, if my vocal cords were ripped out and I had no ability to speak I’d be okay with it.  I know that’s a weird thing to say, but it’s true. If you had the chance to not speak ever again, would you?

We sat on a hill today, cuddled up as one.
We looked up to the sun and forgot about
the dark man with a gun.

We're both oh so suicidal,
our minds are like big tidals.
But, as we sit side by side,
I faintly hear you cry.
"Why?"
I ask you, carefully drying your tears.
You looked up at me with your glossy eyes and
said "Because sometimes I still want to die."
and as we gaze into each others eyes,
I realize that life was a game
and you were the prize.

Sometimes we're better off alone,
to feel the pain we've always known.
Struggling with insanity, feeling a sort of vanity
and seeing no humanity.

Our heads pound unboundly,
we don't feel anymore.
We'll never heal anymore,
We can't deal anymore.
We'll never be the same,
we'll always feel shame.

Sometimes we're better off alone,
Sometimes we're better unknown.

I wanna live to see the day when sharpeners are only used for sharpening pencils again, when razors are only used for shaving again. But, for that to happen society would have to change and for society to change people would have to change, but people are people and they never change