Every night she would lie in bed and finger the stars
Pressing her rough cherry lips to the moon.
Sometimes it seemed as though
Everything was attacking her.
The expectations of the world pressed down
With coarse intolerant hands.
But nights,
Nights seemed different.
Her eyes would bathe in the sadness of the moon
And her heart wouldn't be attacked.
Sometimes
If she urged her mind into the sublime
She could feel small.
Just as she had always dreamed.

The keys to his future lay placidly in his hands.
A jagged gold one for youth
A round passive one for opportunity
And a petite silver one for intellect.
“Unlock the doors” they said.
“Your future is infinite”, they cried.
The sweat of his hands began to glisten
And mix with the nickel
That made up his future.
Too many doors
Too many people
Too many expectations.
So instead of using the keys to unchain his future
He used them to lock himself up.

The crowd dug their eyes  into her           
 And demanded to know                      
What she was feeling                                
What she was saying.                                      
  And what she meant.                                       
 So she mercilessly went for a search
Digging her way through herself
Struggling to scrap up an idea
Any idea of what she really was.
It didn't take long for her to realize
That no matter how hard she searched
And despite how hard she tried
She would never really know.
And that  
That was the scariest part of all.