When I start to wonder what I could be doing with my life,
I listen to music.
I lay underneath my bed,
Staring at the slats.

I think about why I'm not going outside,
Why I can't schedule anything,
Or even get the motivation to finish maybe ten minutes of homework.
So I scream the lyrics.

Almost loud enough to be heard through my tightly shut door.

When the music is overwhelming,
Blocking out the world,
I cry the words, loud and long
Until my throat is hoarse,
And I have slipped into a comfortable numbness.

Here, I lay on the carpeted floor
The wooden slats a few inches from my face,
As all thoughts are blasted away
And I can be at peace.

why do people cut?
because they have felt so much
so many emotions
it becomes overwhelming
they begin to feel nothing
that's when cutting begins to appeal
because they are so desperate to feel something
anything other than happiness
the easiest feeling to create is pain
it is the only way to replicate what that feeling was before the silence
so why not do it right there in front of you
where you will be constantly reminded of some sort of feeling
that same type of feeling that put you there in the first place
sort of like a drug
self harm is a drug
and babe i don't feel anything

Our types of love are different,
And I just can't try any more.
I'm moving on, but trust me;
I'll never truly lock my door.

When I was young,
My shadow was my best friend,
While the dark shapes on my walls at night
Gave me nightmares

I would make sure to stay in the light
As I walked down the street,
Keeping my shadow with me,
Playing games

When I was young,
I didn't know that a shadow
Was simply a place that no light could touch

I thought the other-me
Was a whole new creature,
That would grow and shrink,
Hide beneath me or tower over my head.

When I was young,
The shadows on my walls scared me,
Because, unlike my personal shadow,
They were twisted

A pile of laundry would look like a wolf
Waiting to pounce on me.
Tree's shadows on my window
Were closed hands,
Tap tap tapping,
Trying to get in.

When I was young,
I believed that shadows had minds of their own
And mine was the only one that wouldn't hurt me at night.

She has galaxies in her eyes
Her hope could fill oceans, and still have more to spare
When she opens her mouth, birds stop to listen
And rain reverently relents in its pounding.

She has galaxies in her eyes
Her laughter is infectious, a disease you want to catch.
And when she’s sad, you don't know what to do
It’s a shock, because she’s always grinning

She has joy at her fingertips
Her imagination fills libraries
When she sleeps, her dreams manifest themselves
Becoming wonderful stories that you wish to live out

She has joy at her fingertips
A bright aura follows her like a kitten,
And wraps itself around everyone she touches

She has joy at her fingertips
And galaxies in her eyes
And everywhere she goes, you smile.