I thought I was doing so well
and lost so much weight
and hell I felt pretty
and I put on that dress
that ugly blue dress
and I thought I looked okay
and was proud to look okay
in that ugly blue sparkly dress,
but then she took pictures
and showed me the result
and I nearly broke down crying at the horrific sight.
Hiding my tears, I finally realized
no amount of dolling up
and no amount of weight loss
is going to make me pretty.
I'm ******* ugly
and a nasty little swine
a fat porker pig
a mole on the earth's pretty face
coal that can't become a diamond
a face to make goblins laugh
I'm ******* ugly
and that's all I'll ever be.

I'm not a poet.
I'm a lost suicidal worthless teen
desperately grasping at light words
trying to make sense of this world
desperate to find meaning
begging for a connection
drowning in my silly hopes
that the words I write have an impact
and mean something
and can somehow help me.

I'm not a poet.
I'm just a lame useless twisted pathetic scared drowning kid grasping at any old thing that floats.

After years of living...
                                 of loving...

The truth
              
                                      becomes  *lies

I'm a ******
I don't do drugs or drink
my only flaw is how much I think
I don't believe in God but I believe in me
And I don't know where I belong on my family tree

I don't propose that **** is based on a girl's clothes
I suppose I'm dumb or brilliant but who really knows
You could say that I'm narcissistic or have low self-esteem
with a girlfriend with a pocketless pocket and a head full of dreams

Whoa that didn't flow, that last line
Imperfect effort seems to be an attribute of mine
Look at this rhyme scheme, it's so diverse
I guess I can get away with this; I couldn't get any worse
One favorite, three favorite, fifty-four
Give me validation, I could always use some more
Hello, Hellopoetry! You've been so forgiving
of my beautiful poetry that reflects an ugly way of living
Tell me, tell me: Should I write more?
What if my sadness is gone, and my melancholy no more?
Will you still love me if I write about crinkle-cut fries?

"****. No more suicide poems, does this kid still try?"

Is there still a Josh Haines if he no longer cries?
Is there still a Josh Haines if he doesn't wanna die?
Is there still a Josh Haines if he starts to fall?
Is there still a Josh Haines if he gets it all?
Is there still a Josh Haines after every kiss?
Is there still a Josh Haines after he writes all of this?

Eh. Maybe, baby. Maybe.

In Your smile is born my very breath
I give you all i have to give
Your lies have brought about my death
For trust has no place left to live

Holding a lantern, walking myself out the dark
I found life in the very depths of darkness
Consuming that darkness into me
I feed my burning soul, I satisfy her heart
I see that this soul of mine
Knows everything my mind would dream of knowing
And yet, it sits back and watches me fight
Like a warrior, this material desire
In a world which is wonderful and deadly
Shining like the bright evening star on black
Generous, cruel; Stupid love, blind faith
To tell you, beautifully confusing.
Kindling within me, she screams at me
For every thing I do, confusing me
Now I know not the difference between ugly and beautiful
Pain and pleasure, they have made me numb
And I am just a bud,
Just a bud somewhere on an undiscovered species.
Fighting my own shadows,
Letting myself drown, fall, in love and cry
What do I know now?
Nothing, yet everything
I know everything yet how young I am
So, I know nothing; That young I am
In a world so beautiful, I tell myself
Not to fall in love with souls which cannot give to me
Behind my smile, I am dying
How beautiful you are, how beautiful all this is
Is this a blessing? What kind of a curse is this?
Please, I am tired of falling in love
Fighting back my tears like a lifeless weapon
I tell my soul that my heart is not numb
Do not play with it
I scream "Leave me alone"
How beautiful you are, how beautiful all this is
Is this a blessing? What kind of a curse is this?
Please, I am tired of falling in love.
What do I do with all this inside me?
I cast it upon myself
What would I do with this undying loyalty and hope?
I bless myself with all I have
Do not play with it
I scream "Leave me alone"
How beautiful you are, how beautiful all this is
Is this a blessing? What kind of a curse is this?
Please, I am tired of falling in love.
So, this soul insists that I move on
With a heavy heart, She tells me I am worth
With a smile on my face, I am weeping inside
But this soul inside me insists that I move on
I have a million more galaxies waiting to be explored
No time to waste
No time to sit and cry
I have a million more galaxies waiting to be explored
So with an immortal hope that you would turn,
And accept to take what within me does burn
I hold a lantern, walk myself out the dark
Finding life in the very depths of darkness
Consuming that darkness into me
I feed my burning soul, I satisfy her only heart.

Up until my insomnia meets me
I lied when I said I forgot
I was scared what you'd think
If I said that  I love you a lot

People have only cared for minutes
Leaving me to care for days
When I look at you all I can think
Is please don't go away

I can see me in your eyes
I dream of dreaming with you
I can trace your scars with mine
My thoughts are bleeding through:

My Talia, I know what it's like to not be seen;
what it's like to be alone in a crowded room.
For you, my star, I want you to know:
that no one shines as bright as you.

I can taste you moving on my skin.
My gasp is air you sustain.
hand in hand, under an umbrella
with you, I am safe.