I should speak more,
but I should not touch on certain topics.
For nobody wants to listen
to what I really think.

Everyone is beautiful,
but beauty is narrow and specific.
For nobody wants to see me,
when my face is raw.

When we look for signs of sadness,
why do we look to skin? Tell me why it is so,
that we can not, will not, dare not open our mouths
and ask if our friend is okay?

We wait in patience until we see life
painted hastily onto skin with frustration
and anguish, but why does it have
to get to that point?

I guess what I am trying to say
is that as a society, as the human race,
we need to open our minds rather
than our eyes.

these words, they wriggle about the page

and you wish that for once,

they'd just stay still.

so you can put them back

in the order they belong
and make sense in

but they won't stop moving
they hide behind punctuation
in bullying, driving huddles

words jump out of the book
and into your head
running circles and squares
you want them to stop
we beg them for calm
but they hold you prisoner of a jail
youcannotescapefrom.