My head is heavy
My hands are weak
Guilt on my throat
I can never really speak

My neck can't hold up my thoughts
Jesus Christ, you're all I've got

Never would have let this happen
Too much on the line to lose
But maybe it's better than the other way
Maybe I really needed you

The truth of the darkness is
I carry broken hearts with me
Scars and stars and all kinds of
Bittersweet

But I'll use razor trails as notebook lines
And write a story on my skin
I'm brave and scathed
And I swear I'd do it all again

I just want you to be mine, I want to hold your hand, till the end of time. And watch the sky in your arms, you would keep me safe without harm, and we could be happy as lovers, and friends, and our happiness together would never come to an end...

Invisible, yet
forever etched in
memory

I hear
the sound you made
like lonely wind

Swept away by
violent storms
twisted

A silence fell
that lonely wind
whispered

Your image invisible
my heart shattered
selfless

A dream erased
I couldn't
ever face you.

Nobody cares about
the leftover foil
from a long lost party.

Nobody sings the song
that peaked at thirty-three
in nineteen ninety-six.

Nobody catches the
girl with the thin straw hair
when she jumps from the bridge.

Nobody writes poems
about a dying ****
within suburbia.

She doesn't shower
Nor take a bath
Neither does he
She doesn't look
At her nakedness
In her mirror
Neither does he
She does not
Spend hours
Applying make-up
Neither does he
What they do, do
Is get on with it
Just like all flies do.

Oh, hey self I see you in this phone
natural light and background speaking volumes about the tone that you're trying to set. Wishing to eclipse the picture beneath and above when the person medializing socially takes their finger and rubs. But what if that wasn't the case, yourself you can't replace and the anger, self hate, sorrow, and sadness you just can't escape. You snap the pic envisioning glory from the strong chin to your widows peak but your true self isn't captured by pictures that "they" deem socially acceptable. WHO THE **** IS THEY?! Oh them... they can **** it. And make sure you twist your face up for they *** when you're of in public