I used to think that I was a terrible student
I was terrible at learning
Then I grew to think I was good
I knew the answers for which I was yearning
I devolved, I suppose, and soon I was sure I was a failure once again
F's and C's and D minuses felt like my only friends
I tried to convince my stupid self that it didn't really matter
But I had to choose between learning and grade-earning and I guess I chose the latter.
It scared me to death what I had become a zombie fueled by grades
Focused more on that god ****** score than the progress that I made
I used to think I was good at learning but it was all pretend
I could play school but in the end A's and B's were not my friends.

remembering something
you learn an age ago
do you just
     have to close your eyes
and wait
        wait for your fingers
              to hit the right keys
in perfect synchrony
   and let the music flow
                    do you just wait
and the chords animate
            is this how love works?
       the long forgotten keys
are hidden in depths
                                  just waiting
for you to close your eyes
                  and let it fly

at the pit of my stomach
deep down
those words
filled with some sort
of betrayal
speculation
stabbed right
there
and I felt
really
really
really bad
and guilty
for everything
I probably shouldn't have done.
Yet the past cannot be erased
Neither can I burn all the memories away
Desperate
to crush them into *****
and throw them right into the fire
burn
burn
burn
let it burn
but my memories are no paper *****.
and they come back
every
now and then
from the back
to the front
a subtle reminder
**you probably shouldn't have done that.

Isn't it ironic
how i said
that i would
never
drag a blade
across my skin
because of
my fear of blood
Isn't it ironic
how people
didn't realize
that was my
perfect excuse
to do so
Isn't it ironic
how the things
we do to
feel alive,
are the things
that can **** us