Finishings can be
The hardest part
In these final steps
All the craftsmanship
Has already occured
The finishings are
Mere inevitabilities

You must
Come to terms
With the idea that  
Perfection is a
Necessary goal
Precisely because
It is unattainable

You must reconcile
Yourself to failure

It's not perfect
You have to make
Your peace with that

How?
Well..
You lay out
Your tools
And you
start again

I hadn't yet realized
That growing up
Was all about
Getting hurt
And I've got
Scars that say
I'll never
Really be ok
But when
You think
You're gunna
Die yesterday
Today is sweet

I must've asked him
About a thousand times
"Are you okay?"

And a thousand times
He would say
"Yeah"

Sometimes you just
Don't know
How unhappy
Someone is

The worst part
About being sick
Is you get all
The free ice cream
You can ask for
And the worst part
About that is
Realizing there's
Nothing more
They can do for you

I never called
You my cure
But I looked at
You everyday
Like you were
The only reason
I was still alive
And that's
Just not cool

But what
Happens when
I just don't want
To get help?
Like I don't want
To convince myself
To live longer

I'm so through with
The population,
Being human,
And being myself

It's like I don't
Want to stick
Around and see
If it gets better
I don't want
To get better

I want to be dead
I want to be nothingness

What intrigues
The flint
To spark a thought?
Is it sadistic?
Is it sympathetic?
Recognizable,
Understandable,
Plausible?
Do you ever
Know enough?
Lost in search for
The heart
Of the matter
Do you truly believe
In this world
You've created?