If I fall,
I will just have to hope
That I land on the
Bounce houses
And loose feathers
From pillow fights
Of my childhood

Rather than the
Broken glass
And hard concrete
Of my future

I am a wrapper
a safe guard
a wall.

I am the outside
that won't let
me fall.

I am the cov'ring
the foil
the start.

I am the paper
that protects
my heart.

Decisions.
Deciding who you are,
what you're life will be.

Experimenting.
Something you are allowed to do,
to figure out who you are,

but don't drag anyone else into it.
*I am not here to be experimented with.

His* car, Her car
It was his, it was *hers

I travel through the maze,
never knowing where to turn.

I think in my mind,
the paths traveled before,
so I know which way to avoid.

My heart beats with fear,
Anxiety pushes on my chest with all its force.

I can't turn, I can't move.
The element of surprise,
Showing up at any moment.

I can't handle.
I'm terrified.

Every bend I come across,
every slight indication,
I panic.

I can't help it,
*That's me

The ghost of the past travels beside me,
It haunts its way through the empty halls.

Just leave me alone! I beg,
as it creeps, closer and closer.
Never It hisses past my ear.

What have I done to deserve this?
Why are you treating me this way!

Everything happens for a reason It shrills by,
Spinning around me, causing my senses to explode.
I try to stop it, but it just continues faster.

I've had enough.
I'm sorry I scream, tears rolling down my face.

It vanishes quickly,
I collapse to the floor,
but the room continues to spin.

It's still not over I whisper to myself.
*It's still not over

I'm writing out my story from start to finish,
I'm not quite sure where to start.
Everything flows out like a waterfall over a cliff,
pulling the strings and tearing my heart.

The buildup of stories have occurred over time,
and not one person knows the entire truth.
I wish I knew myself sometimes,
because everything is slowly breaking my youth.

The innocence I once had, is long gone now.
I've seen and heard too much.
Oh how I wish I could go back,
to when life was solely soft to touch.

I complain about plenty,
though sometimes I don't know what.
It's just nice to let out,
the feelings I keep shut.

For stories have conformed,
the me I am today.
Eventually I won't know,
the me that's got away.

*I have changed.