You seem to have forgotten
about all the times we shared.
It seems it slipped your mind
that we're better as a pair.

You seem to not remember
all those beautiful restless days.
It seems your memory escapes you
and our love was just a phase.

Did you lose your memory?
Or was it purposely erased?
Is there a way I can restore it?
Or has our love been just a waste?

The boy was too brooding.
I think he did it to impress me
and to make me think he was mysterious
but all it did was leave me empty.

The boy was too handsome.
He was the type of guy who could roll
right out of bed and look perfectly perfect
and it infuriated me.

The boy was too athletic.
His muscles never failed to show
themselves from underneath his tops
and it made me self-conscious.

The boy was too quiet.
He wanted to prove that he'd listen to
what I had to say so he'd stare right at me silently
with eyes that pierced my soul like a knife.

At first glance, he was flawless.
He had the qualities I always thought I wanted:
Mysterious, Perfect, Muscles, Listening Skills.
Really, I just wanted someone like the actors on TV.
But that's just what they are: actors.

Everyday I watched Daisy dance in the park.
She was a girl of eight years old.
She always looked so carefree and
without a single problem in the world.

I came to watch her dance each day,
because I envied her beautiful innocence.
She twirled and leaped and curtisied and tip toed
across the playground without a hint of wickedness.

I watched her and thought of the work I had to do,
but Daisy had an abundance of free time.
I knew I was much too busy to be watching her,
but I loved the reminder of my long lost prime.

She was the ideal of who I aspired to be.
A girl who can dance with all of her soul
and not worry about anyone that may be watching.
A girl who knows the simple things make us whole.

I feared for my little Daisy.
I was afraid of the day she'd start to comprehend
that this life isn't one giant beautiful ballet.
When that day comes, her dancing will violently end.

I feared for myself as well.
What will happen to me when her dancing is done?
Who will I watch and admire each day?
The restless sinful flesh will have won.

I remember sixth grade.
Everyone told me you couldn't fall
in love so young. So I distanced myself from you.

I remember seventh grade.
You begged me to come back,
but I told you all the words they told me were true.

I remember eighth grade.
I never saw you even once but couldn't
stop thinking about all the things we used to do.

I remember ninth grade.
I saw you every single day but,
by then, you were with someone brand new.

I remember tenth grade.
You were still with her happily
and I cried. It was all my fault, I knew.

I remember eleventh grade.
You were single and I had high hopes
that once again it'd be me and you.

I remember twelfth grade.
You had graduated the year before
so I saw exactly zero of you.

I remember yesterday.
I ran into you at the store and thought
'this is my chance' until I noticed a girl that was new.

How can we breathe
in a society that
is constantly squeezing
our throats?

How can we walk
in a world that
is constantly chaining
our legs?

How can we be
in a place that
is constantly telling
us no?

"No," it says,
"That job isn't
enough for you to
survive."

"No," it says,
"Those clothes aren't
enough for you to
win him."

"No," it says,
"That thing isn't
enough for you to
impress."

"No," it says,
"You are not ever
enough to amount to
anything."

Well, I think it's time
we say "No" back.

If love is what fixes every deepened wound
then why am I hurting?
If love is the answer to every problem
then why am I questioning?

If love is the sunshine on a dark day
then why am I feeling cold?
If love is a miracle potion that keeps you young
then why am I feeling old?

If love is what makes the world go round
then why am I stuck standing still?
If love is the band aid that protects all of your cuts
then why am I not yet healed?

If love is the only thing that is true
then why do I doubt?
If love demands you to be faithful
then why do I want to bail out?

If love is what you claim to be giving
then why am I always crying?
If love is what you say you're doing
then why inside am I dying?

If love is when you hold my throat
then why do they say I should want it?
If love is when you call me names
then why do they say I should like it?

If love is the night you pinned me to the ground
then why is everyone searching for it?
If love is the way you slammed me against the wall
then why is it crushing my spirits?

If love is the thing I'm receiving from you
then why am I always bruised?
If this is love, I do not want it.
Love is sacred, and not abuse.

I don't know who she is,
but I can make
believe the truth.

She’s a princess
Of an island
Somewhere right outside Peru.

She’s the daughter
Of a grand king
And a lovely queen too.

I imagine
A long line
Of men who’d want to pursue

The fair maiden
the heiress
Of a throne she’ll soon assume.

She’ll rule with power and grace,
A smile on her face,
Kindness in her heart,
She’ll give the kingdom a new start.

Though some may doubt,
I know that's who she'll be.
Even if she's not,
She'll always be a princess to me.