All of my dishes, stacked in my room
Am I a slob? Please don't assume.
Clothes—whether dirty, clean, or worn—
I know the difference, though they're strewn.
Twinkling lights strung overhead
Match the lamp beside my bed.
With dust my dresser is adorned,
And my favorite chair is red.
I see the beauty in the mess;
Why do you cry in distress?
Mom, I like to live like this.
And I have no one to impress.
Inspiration grips my soul
And gives my mind no peace;
I try and try to let it go,
But silence baffles me.
Sometimes in the darkest night
It's dreams that haunt my eyes
And sometimes, inspiration's height
Looks about agony's size.
Ideas sometimes look like pain
And memories that hurt me;
And beautiful though my song may be,
Perhaps its roots concern me.
But art, it lies within the choice
To make a lie show truth
And find the love inside the voice
Of your heartrending youth.
Don't build your statues with ashes:
Compress them into stone,
And watch as sorrow clashes
With love that builds a home.
Darkness is no shelter,
But is an invitation
For light to burn the better
As fire: my inspiration.
In autumn, my soul feels closer
To the wind and leaves that fall.
I wrap the world up tightly
And my scarf makes me feel tall.
The breeze that bites and strikes me
And fills my eyes with tears
Is welcome when I'm lonely,
When I cover up my ears.
I love just taking comfort
In the warmth of my own skin
When boots and hat and gloves here
Keep all my warmness in.
If only every day got cold,
And every evening froze:
For then, I'd get to hug myself
From my head down to my toes.
One step behind the other,
I keep my eyes ahead.
I'll keep myself together
If I watch where I have tread.
I'm sure I'm being hunted
By monsters in the night.
Not sure if I've been stunted,
Or if this is their true height.
But if the shadows wavered,
Or gave way to my stare,
I'd sing instead of quaver
And stand with shoulders square.
No time to sit and panic
Or just wait for the dawn.
Until I leave the manic,
I must keep trudging on.
Wait until I'm with you,
And then I might break down.
Take comfort when it's through,
When at last pain makes a sound.
Just save me a seat in the closet
I'm fighting my fears now:
Fear was the one to cause it,
But I will answer how.
I sing to voice the colors of my soul.
I write to bring the words I feel to life.
I rhyme to feel that I am in control,
And breathe to know that I am not a knife.
I dance to taste the wind blow in my hair.
I bend and sway to dodge these fiery darts.
I hide to keep my feelings unaware
That everything I reach for falls apart.
I bow to broken people like myself,
But when did prayer become a second guess?
I lie in bed and curse my mental health
And wish for broken bones instead of stress.
When all is said and done, I cry to feel,
And hurt myself to know that this is real.
I never knew why standing on a balcony was so unnerving—
Why driving across a bridge,
Or around a mountain with only a short railing,
Made me question reality and life itself.
Tucking me in that night before you went home,
When we talked for an hour about Agency and Free Will,
Before you finally kissed me and left me to think in the dark:
My eyes were open wide as I learned that feeling's name.
"It's like how I could scream, right now?" I asked
And you nodded, "But something keeps you from doing it."
"I don't want to wake up Mom," I laughed.
He smiled and said, "And it would hurt my ears if you did."
Then a conversation later, after you blew a kiss
You turned out the light, and I lay in the dark.
I could jump out my window right now, I thought.
There's nothing physically stopping me.