If my feelings would show
their ugly faces right now,
I wouldn't be able to fight back,
would I?

Tomorrow
I will still be the same
as always.

Laughing and
trying to joke with you.

I always knew
the things we feel
are different.

But since you
showed up in that dream of mine.

I haven't been
honest with you
at all.

It's not poetry.
Everything I write is a maddening
thought spewed, almost saddening
to watch. And I claw
at my brain to get it out, and gnaw
on the nails I bite between shouts.

Poetry is beautiful
yet my words are ugly,
to call it righteous
would be untruthful.

My pain's no good
it's a non-art with no use.
It's not art to me,
but what does it mean to you?

Am I really
content with this?
The things I would do,
to be anyone else.
Anywhere else.
At any other time.

The things to change
are countless
and innumerable,
but it could all be fixed
if what changed
was the direction of your gaze.

If I could change
the direction you look,
to be seen by you,
maybe then I'd find it in me
to change myself.

Please don't try to
spare me.
Your sweet smile
and kind attitude
is hurting me more than you think.

I don't want
kindness anymore...
Because your sweetness
has put honesty
on hold.

Life goes on.
But at this point,
it's going to have to
go on without me.

I want to
give you a reason to
look my way.
I want to do
something,
anything,
and yet I have nothing
to say.

Surrounded by
so many people,
I've nothing special for you.
And even though I'm here,
I'll never be special
no matter what I do.

We met
and played a game.
I was bad at it,
for that I'm sorry.

We met
and had coffee.
I got your order wrong,
for that I'm sorry.

We met
and talked about that book.
I didn't like it,
for that I'm sorry.

We met
and then we didn't.
You, now,
no longer want to meet with me.

I'm sure
things will come to an end one day.
Whether by my hand
or God's.
But until that day comes
I'd like to stay with you.

I wanted to need you,
and I wanted you to need me too.
But now I wonder why,
your parasitism is making me ill
as I die.

You're killing me off.

It's not that I
don't know
the words I want to say.
I'm only worried
you won't listen to the feelings
I wanted to convey.

"There's no point",
is the favorite phrase of
an indifferent loser
such as I.

Hideous negativities flow in harmony,
with the stream that stings my eyes.
Putting on a show of apathy
and pretending love is a misfortune,
my true feelings will scrape
at my conscience.

Stowed away are the words
that bear years' worth of sentiment.
"Could you
love someone like me?"

You are a monster.
You must be.
With 15 limbs,
and green skin,
and scales.
When you bleed,
its blue, not red.

You definitely must be
a monster.
Because no human,
could hurt me so bad.

I hate liars.
That's why I couldn't
forgive myself
when I told you it was okay.

It comes out of the dark spaces.
Living in my closet,
behind the door,
under the bed.

It creeps up on me,
when I'm least expecting it.
Sending me
chills.

And for some reason,
it can tell
when you're not around
to help.

"You're always so happy!"
Every time you say that it gets harder
to distract
myself from the fact
it's all just an act

Happy friends are always
a pleasant sight to see,
but how quickly that sight sours
when I realize they'll still be happy
without me.

I can't lose a chance
you never gave me in the
first place.

I fear one day
you'll no longer need me,
and once again I'll be tossed aside.
Usually this wouldn't be
any different.
But,
I like you.
Please, keep me.

Take a deep breath.
Count to ten.
The only way.
In a second I'll feel
the chill of a blade
creeping down my skin again.

Again, just like every year
summer shows itself.
A relief to many,
but fills myself with dread.

The warm summer breeze,
doesn't blow in cozy feelings.
Instead, it sends disgusting,
frightening,
"emotions"
that send chills,
not fit for the season,
crawling up my spine.

My feet have grown weary
from walking around it.
I want you to see it like I do.
I want you to know,
how much I like you.

I wonder,
what am I to you?
Someone special,
or just someone to use?

I know you well,
and you know me too.
So when you hurt me,
I'm sure you knew.

I know you don't like me,
that's nothing new.
There's no point in you knowing
how much I loved you.
-From Me, to You.

Why are the good feelings,
always the ones that hurt.
I hate "love".
I give but never receive.

You have all the time in the world,
to talk about what you want to.
But whenever I need to speak,
we're "cutting it close".

I'm sorry,
I can't keep acting like I'm okay.
Every conversation like this,
every word,
just makes me cry more and more
every day.

My scabs
were mine to pick at,
but you rolled up my sleeve
and tore them off.

And now,
they're bleeding all over again.

I know you try your best,
to be of use.
But every kind word
only tightens the noose.

Your eyes are pretty.
I just wish
they would look at me more.

I'm sorry,
I know you have better people
and better things to do.
But I want to
be around you too.

I'm sorry,
that I cling to you so much.
You just make me feel
like the little worth I have
is something real.

I know things can
never be that way between us.
But I never want us to be parted,
cause you're someone who finally
makes me feel
wanted.

"You don't understand,
you don't understand!", you cried.
It's not like
you understood me either.

One day, you'll realize
I was rotten from the start.
And I'd have no reason
to have a place in your heart.

One day, you'll realize
there's so much better than me.
And again, I'll be cast away
despite how much I'd plea.

And one day, you'll realize.
I was never of any use.
One day, you'll realize
the truth.

I'm sorry,
I never meant to get jealous.
I just wish you noticed me,
as much as them.

I don't want to die.
But your kind demeanor,
the one so painful to endure.
I wouldn't really mind
going out like that.

Things would only change
If I was strong enough to do so.
But I'm not.
So until then, I don't know.

My words shouldn't be
on a piece of paper.
I wanted to give them
to you.
But for now,
this'll do.

My energy's gone,
my throat's dried up too.
Wasted everything,
just to try to talk to you.

I just wanted you to hear me.
Please, listen.

Why do I write?
To express myself,
or is it because I'm too scared to
express myself in a "real way",
like you said.

There's no point.
Even now I'm running away
from actually talking to you.
I'm sorry.

I always was a coward,
took to the pen before the tongue.

And now all the words I've ever
ever
written,
torn up by their creator.

I craved your attention,
but you weren't too eager.
No one else's will work for me,
I'm too much of a picky eater.

The I arose,
and the World greeted me
by dragging me along
for another day
I didn't want.

My heart is so full of feelings.
Head full of thoughts.
I showed them to you,
now my eyes are full of tears.

Once upon a time,
I wanted to give you my heart.
But now,
I'm begging you to take it.
Take it before I
tear it out myself.

It's no fun to pretend
to be something you're not
when everyone can see
right through you.

Some people want followers.
Others want connections.
Love and
Friendship and
Time spent and
Memories.
I think about what I want,
and come up blank.
So will you please,
help me fill in this empty page?
Stay by my side, my one request.

Puzzle of life.
Friendships, love, connections,
all proper pieces.
And yet I can't find anywhere I fit
in this unsolvable jigsaw.

Huddled again,
in a corner of the school's rooftop.
"I'm a human no one needs."
Those words,
cross your mind again as you
ponder the height.

I stand above you,
looking down with contempt.
You've no reason to look up,
I don't mind.
I'd rather not see your face;
It resembles me far too much.
Why's that?

I know I'm selfish.
for wanting to be seen
as much as her.
I try but,
that'll never happen right?