I had no idea,
That you wanted to be a disaster
Quite this badly.

and here i am again
at the intersection
of pedestrian language
& old wives tales
swallowing gum
like 7 year memories
opening umbrellas inside
cause i can't seem get away
from all of this rain
i ******* with my left hand
cause i was told
back in highschool that
"it feels like someone else is doing it"
it gets me wondering
about the difference between
losing you and finding out
that some one else found you
or my sleep
or lack thereof
its starting to tear me apart
i keep having this dream
where you are in
an unfamiliar body of water
trying to wash my poetry
off of your hands
or the one where
something happens in my chest
every time you sit
on someone else's bed
i'm tired of feeling like something you've misplaced
but don't have the heart
to look for anymore
tired of you saying my name
like you're trying to bury it
i'm tired of wondering
if you can tell the difference
between the absence
of my voice & silence
the other day
i almost started sobbing
at work when a woman
asked me about
our equipment
i was explaining how
things come apart
and almost mentioned your name
it made me think
of how you used to say
things like "what would you do
if i showed up on your doorstep
one day?" now, i haunt
the windows in my house
i don't leave for weeks at a time
i sit on the porch like the dog
you didn't shoot behind the shed
the one that refuses to die
until you come home again
i told somebody once, that
you didn't even know
what my voicemail sounded like
i wonder if they thought
it was because you
are so important that i never
let it ring that many times
before picking up
or if you dont know
what it sounds like
because you've never called
you can't be the ****** weapon
and the search party
i'm tired of all the seats
to the ferris wheel in my chest
being empty
tired of your voice
being the one i look for
in abandoned places
that one sound i beg
to bounce back
down vacant hallways
i just seem to stand there
in all of that quiet
like someone looking for a mistake
on an eviction notice
so i guess the hardest part
isn't letting go
it's forgetting
you ever had a grip
in the first place
and since you've been gone
i wonder if when
you pushed yourself away from me
you used your left hand
so it felt like someone else did it

Something is wrong with me,

I don't know what,

but I am different,

I feel different,

I don't feel like I fit in,

There is no place for me,

not in this society,

I am sorry,

but I am not -can not- be,

who you want me to be,

I am different,

Something is wrong with me,

I don't know what,

But something isn't right,

I am sorry,

I am not who I should be,

sorry that I don't fit in,

I can't help that something is wrong with me

They run from the bombs,
avoiding invading soldiers,
as they run through fields.

Taking with them
all they can carry in the escape,
to find a home and safe place.

Stopped at borders
begging for help
yet often rejected.

We hear the reasons
and are given excuses
of why there is no help.

Have they not looked into the eyes of the child.

I was young, gullible, naive
When you promised forever,
I believed you with everything

I fell ******* a flat surface
You said you'd fallen,
But you had a safety net

Now, I'm broken and alone
And you're perfectly fine
And hate who I am

I used to be that happy little girl who danced trough the streets, smiled at everyone she met.
Now I am that depressed boy who locks himself up in his room, never comming out, because people might notice his *****.
Oh, the difference between this two.
But both are part of me and my past.
Who will I tomorrow be?