Reports of my fame are greatly exaggerated.
My return has been long awaited
My words so weighted
Translated
I'm a big deal
Words
They make me reel
Run out of me like a river
I'm a giver
Give her some room
Let her breathe
A star like that needs room to see
See the next inspiration
Her next frustration
Cause writing it out is an obligation
A need
It scrapes at my skin till it bleeds
If those words don't get written i cry
cry so much I think im gonna die
The kind of cry where the air leaves your lungs
The cry where the only thing you can do is run
So I write.
Turn tears to literature
Confident I'm sure
My words are Shakespearian
The likes of Jane Austyn
Because again I am a star
An up-and-coming poet
I can tell that girl is going far
Reports of my fame are greatly exaggerated

I wanna be more than a warm body someone you want to see,
not see,
look into my eyes and see
See me
more than what you ever could be
contain so much pain suffering sorrow, an anguish,
but it is so beautiful.
So wonderful
so full of happiness and smiles and good things and bad.
I want to be more than a warm body.
I want you to mean something to me
Someone I mean
someone I see
Someone I breathe
Someone I need
I wanna be more than a warm body to you

Everytime I look in the mirror I smile
Not because I think im pretty
But because i don't want the mirror girl to be sad
Because to me she is separate
I don't want that girl to see me cry
Everytime I look in the mirror I smile
Not because I'm happy
but because she's pretty
Even if I am ugly
Inside out and all over
That girl will always be pretty
Everytime I look in the mirror I smile
Because that girl is me
She deserves to be pretty
She deserves to be happy
Inside out
And all over

I am trying to find solace in silence
Comfort in quiet
Safety in my slumber
As seasons of friendship end I struggle with the idea silence
Notifications on but my phone doesn't buzz
Work, school, work, school, study, practice study.
No need for texts if you don't have time
Breathe
Sit and breathe
Breathe and sit
I have never quite sat in silence
Always has there been noise
The noise in my head
The noise of my life
For one of the first times in my life in sit comfortably in silence

You made me a poet
You made my pencil and paper meet
My words hit paper
All I am is a product of what you have made me to be
You made me a poet

I think perhaps that I am too sensitive
The snowflake
The idea that my generation is soft and can't handle conflict might be true, because because in my eyes, all conflict is evil,
maybe I am stirring up conflict,
maybe I am the one whole holding the lighter and lighter fluid at the bridges that I burn.
Maybe I'm too sensitive.
A snowflake in a pool of lava,
I am just begging to burn in flames. Perhaps I just am unable to live a life without conflict.
Maybe I'm just messy.
Maybe I'm too sensitive
offended by everyones words
hurt by every pin
Maybe I'm too sensitive