The girls say my skin's too pale
          And the boys say my hair's soft
                    But I don't really care either way
The girls say my bones are frail
          And the boys say my spirit's loud
                    But I could care less either way
The girls say my teeth are crooked
          And the boys say my whispers waft
                    But I don't have a care either way
The girls say I should be overlooked
          And the boys say I should be proud
                    But I don't care at all either way

Im sick

I have been
for a long time
My stomach
Has never felt right

My mind
has never settled
My nerves
Always jumbled

In sore heaps
My bones lie dry
Beneath a tarp
Of scarred skin

Maybe sick is
the wrong word

Im wrong

Everything about me
Falls into the wrong place
Nothing matches up
On my disorganized face

Im physically uncomfortable
In my own skin
I want to rip it off
And regrow it again

Maybe the problem
Is in who ive made myself
Maybe i dislike
What ive portraited to everyone else

So maybe i should try
And take apart my mind
And regrow my very being
From my center. From inside.

Do you remember Saturday mornings?

Passing notes across the table,
Exchanging juvenile expressions,
Laughing and learning
About who we really were.

It was during this time with you
I discovered myself.
Now I'm lost again, I need your help.

I have forgotten Saturday mornings,
And Friday afternoons,
And every late night.

Do you remember Saturday mornings?