Stuck here memorizing lines.
Lies
That i will tell the guy in the chair
Every moment watching me
Judging me
Waiting for a slip up or a pickup or a step down like a hellhound
When did seeing become so different
So what we see does it actually matter when all of these people tell a million lies just to flatter the guy in the chair
He's still watching me
I'm too young for this
It's not worth the boba
But lonesome people don't change their favorite color to green like the rest of us
I like pink
And to think without a second thought i can think
Whos illusion do i have to see through?

how to make a humble pie
step one
make the listening to no one but the devil on your shoulder by hand and really kneed that into a lonely pie crust
step two
whisk together some mindlessness and two tons of confidence, (add a little extra for a bitter taste)
add fear of vulnerability and lack of commitment in there
slowly stir in the ungratefulness until its the consistency of a bad person
cook this all in the hypocritical oven until its nice and bad at taking criticism
let it dry for sixteen years until its rotten and moldy and put it into a pride fridge for twenty two minutes. Sprinkle a ton of entitlement on to the top and your done! You've made a humble pie!!
Serve with syrupy sugar milk and sour grapes

I could sell you the sky with rain from the heavens.
I have lights made from lead and a heart made of Cole
Don't trust a pretty liar who pretends to be whole.

Everything in life is temporary
it all ends, but the problem is when things end somthing new begins and you just have to deal with all these beginnings and endings
Everything is temporary
Sadness, love, life, passion, friendships, homes, familys, joy day, night, sleep, awake
It all ends
And you just watch it end over and over again and you have to deal with it
Theres one thing that dosent have an end but still begins and thats death.
It begins but never ends thats why everyone craves it or fears it so dearly
I can think of a million things that never begin but always end
But deaths the one thing that begins without an end.
What brings all these beginings and endings in a cycle only stopped by death?
The three norns
The future is an end, look forward and a million things have already ended
Time brings all ends
And beings bring beginnings, beings desperately build things up hoping not to have ot smashed down by time, but it always happenes, a cycle
The past are things that are to end and the present is things that are ending
The cycle is boring
And sad
It just means your stuck
Theres only one end
That lastts forever and thats death
No happiness without sadness yet there seems to be sadness without happiness all the time
death wont leave me
death dosent forget about you
death dosent leave its forever, past a point of no return
thats beuty
in a universe full of cycles
the only true beuty is an end
Yet objects dont end
When i die my body will decay and go into another cycle
But i will be over
I will be dead
thats whats so beautiful about the anomaly of life
Things cycle forever, never to end
But beings get to end
I truly pity things without being
They cycle forever
No end for them
but the strangetys of the infinantes gave us being!!!
and thats what separate beings from everything else
We die
We get the beautiful gift of an end

Making the most of life is pointless when most ends
if i make the most of a friendship its still gonna end
Everythings temporary and thats never ending
What making the most gives you is only an end that makes you look back and wish things lasted forever?
Pure unfiltered nostalgia
Pain
Regret
Regret of letting it end
Knowing you could have done something to stop it from ending
Regret of not saying more
Not doing the things you where scared to do
but now its over and theres no way to do anything because everythings temporary
Except death
Death lasts forever
An end without an end

The solar eclipse,
the feel of your lips.
Your long brown hair in the cold Misty air.
The contrast turns dark as we kiss in the park,
but an eclipse surely fades, and your lips cannot stay
So you cut your hair and left me there, in the park dreaming of that short time that you really did care.

Sleeping at dusk
An eyeless black husk
As mist swirls around
She drops to the ground
Her head is getting further and further from her skull
But away is the only place she has to go.
The sky's turning white
Her hands feel so warm
She needs to get out
Decisions lie torn
They lie on the ground soeroundong
Her figure. The baiege plauge will cause, Her to pull on the trigger.

He knows.
He knows that I'm already bleeding I've already fallen,
I can't defend myself when it comes to him. It would be so easy for him just break past my paper walls and tear through the weak, burnt, charred fleash and muscle and bones that had protected me from people like him for so long, he could easily just rip through it and pull out my glass heart and crush it in his fist, the tiny bleeding shards would fall from his hand, scraping it up and drawing drops of metallic blood from his hand, the tiney red sparkleing Cristal shards would fall down, down, down. And as fast as the light would fade out from my eyes as my soul would slowly evaporate, the shards of my broken crystal heart would hit the floor. The remanders of my heart, my life, my love, my being, the beautiful remanders of an ugly girl would shatter like glass on the cold hard stone floor. drops of blood, bolth mine and his, would blossom into tiny pools of beautiful red. The pools would spread, yet never touch. As the dark red stains spread across the cold floor. I would die, watching pooling dots of my own blood and tears, and his, his blood, his tears drip dropping to the floor that I die upon. My last sight would be the sight of ugly love and beutiful death. He would walk away, just like they all did. The toxic, evil of man would be the one to finally gain the victory of ending this wasted life that I have lived. I know he wouldn't even think about it. he would soon forget, about me, about love and about death. That is what love is, it's a slow painful death that you unwillingly bring upon yourself, all of these fools are allowing themselfs to be dragged into this, they're idiots, all calling it "love" I should be happy that he hasn't destroyed me like the rest have yet, but I know he could and he would be The very last.

I'd love to be fixed but I've given up hope. "It's messed up" I get that alot from the pope.
I'd love to love to like my family has told me but I'm sick at the thought of a guy trying to hold me.
Am I wrong?
Am I broken?
I'm lonely for sure,
But as a lesbian in Utah I don't get much allure.

Roses are red,
violets are blue
I like talking to you,
. . . . .
Uhm. . . shoe

translation:
*help me

wow

Violets have pollen,
Roses have thorns,
I wish that you had never been born,
The fact that your still here really boils my blood,
No one would care if you drowned in a flood.

there goes your sanity!

Painful perfect paintings attack me in the night, sending me in to a deep spiral of if only-s. If only White birds would silently cry in the day, with folded wings that never learned to fly. Shortly in death I think of this moment in time and cry Apache tears on to the glassy sea of painful perfect memories. You had feilds of lemons and crows swimming in a colbat blue pond in your pudding brown eyes and I miss them. I miss the way you would always tell me that I was your one and only snowglobe heart and I understand that if you heard what I'm saying your heart would restart but from the moment I rushed out an " I love you" at the end of our call my poor memories become spotted and dull but I know that yours must be duller, for although you are a broken pencil with no erasor I am a camera that records but dosent save the the promise you broke, when it turned into a joke. I would give hell a name if only things didn't go the way they went, but it's over. If only I listened a bit.