All my life I've been told
How to act and how to think
What to do and who to be

"Don't use those words"
"Don't stay out late"
"You should have fun!
Just not that way"
"Keep your grades up"
"Keep your laugh down"
"But whoever told you
you should frown?"

I've always been good
I did as I was told
I never misbehaved
But now I'm growing old
My youth is passing by me
And how have I spent it?
Obedient - I'm seeing it
Never the miscreant
But always the misfit

"Don't talk back"
"Don't disagree"
Can't you see
your words are hurting me?
"Honey, I always wanted the best for you"
Then why don't you let my real self
shine on through?

Never had any friends
and you ask me why?
How am I supposed to blend
when you never even let me try?
But that doesn't matter
it's not what I want
What I want is out there
and you keep me locked up
But it all ends now
though you still ask how -
how did this happen?
Why did I change?
Well now I'm here to tell you
I broke out from my cage
All these
Obligations
Frustrations
Condemnations
Aggravations
Your fixations
and my deprivations
They're done now cause can't you see?
From this day on
I'm doing me.

I turned you into my favorite rhymes-
Developed your smile into first lines,
Channeled your eyes in my deepest fears.

I made you stay-
Burned your name into stanzas,
Carved your body onto paper.

I loved everything about you-
Idolized your tragic flaws,
Transformed your harsh words into art.

I turned you into poetry,
But I never made you love me.

Today at church
we played a name game
and somewhere down the line
I was sitting next to you
For the first time in ten months
wondering if my name
still tastes like honey to you
Or if you even remember
What it felt like
When it rolled off your tongue
Because I still taste yours
Vibrating on my lips
And I still feel
your vanilla kisses
across my chest

dating a writer
is like guessing the weather.
you think you know what you'll get,
but you never do.

you never know
because

she'll create a hero
from your weaknesses

and she'll write a great character,
from every last flaw.

she'll create a thousand plots  
from your worst nightmares.

she'll take every last thing you hate
and create something you'll love.

she'll turn your anger
into confessions of adoration,

and she'll make you,
everything you're not.

but worst of all,
she'll leave you wondering-
is it you she's in love with,
or things she's created from you?

but here's the beauty of it:

if you date a writer,
you'll never die.

A well oiled machine.
Its gears daily greased.
Cogs turning for centuries and shooting out steam.
An army of engineers to keep it running eternally.

Behind the smoke screen,
a lone projectionist screams for the audience to open their eyes -
to stop listening to the churning of mass produced lies.
(Shortly afterward,
he dies.)

A well oiled machine.
Occasionally leaking blood from its seams.
An army of janitors assigned with keeping it clean.

A lone visionary decides to alter the design.
Creates a switch that will turn all fog into light.
(Right before he goes to flip it,
he dies.)

A well oiled machine.
Built solely for the purpose of spitting out smoke,
and beneath it, a graveyard
of those who tried to throw a wrench in its spokes.

A second
A minute
An hour
A day
A month
A year....
Your life can be different
Can change in a matter of minutes
Or in a matter of years
I drive my life slowly
Unknowingly
Where I'll end
Cause at any moment
I may not be here