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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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

I th016ink there's a g015litch in my co014de.
I'm tr013ying, but I st012ill feel alo011ne.
A010nd, my he009art?
It's bi008tter cold t007o the touc006h.
I wi005sh this l004ife w003as eno002ugh.
Li001fe is to d000ie.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Dream, oh dream.
A fallen leaf flowing down a stream.

Wish, oh wish.
Rain boots squish in pretty puddles.

Hope, oh hope.
Dizzy souls walk across the tightrope.

Live, oh live.
Give the empty vessels a heartfelt smile.

And remember, oh remember.
How I left the window open that December.

I feel like I'm dying.
Even though I know I'm not.
I'm breathing, I think.
I have to be,
but I've struggling to feel anything.
Everyone says it's impossible
to die and keep walking the earth
but I feel like the person I am died long ago
and now I'm just sitting in a suit of skin.

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
am not made of stone,
even if
the way I exist says the opposite.

I
am not made of wax,
even if
the tears that fall disagrees.

I
am not made of paper,
even if
the scrunching of my soul yells otherwise.

I
am human,
even if
the chaos inside my head challenges that.

A little broken,
a little flawed.

I can't seem to sleep anymore,
the hill is still steep like before.
And I'd rather fall
and break my bones
than spend one more year
beside all these clones.

I know that I fear more than anyone,
but I'll be fine 'cause
at least my life is mine.

I won't be like you.
I don't want to see the colors fade to blue.
Enjoy the view,
this is a preview.

Of what your life could be,
if you'd try to see.

A life like me.

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.

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

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

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

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

On a dimly lit street is a house,
with broken windows shattered from expectation
and a roof not built to hold the weight of living.
The furniture is covered in dusted memories from the past
and the floorboards creak with the sound of every mistake.
The grass that once sat atop the dirt has ran away
and the pool is filled with an ocean of tears.
The laundry hamper is full, piling up with self doubt.
This is my resting place;
a little tattered,
a little sad,
but a little hopeful.

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?

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.