I saw her everyday
As I walked home from school
She would stand against that same “No Smoking” sign
I never really understood
How she could stand against that sign
And disobey it everyday
Or maybe she didn’t understand it
I mean after all she did stand there
In her fishnet stockings and 5 inch heels with money slipping out of those stockings
Smoking
Just smoking until there was nothing left to smoke on that ole cig
She smoked that thing religiously everyday
As if it would make her immortal
Although, ironically, it did the exact opposite
Maybe it’s like her
So stereotypical
But maybe she’s the exact opposite
She stands in those infamous heels and fishnet stockings
Like a stereotypical *****
But maybe she just got off her minimum wage part time job at the costume shop down the street
Maybe she’s not a stereotypical mother
But that doesn’t mean she’s a stereotypical ***** either
And she’s also not a freak nor an outcast
Just because she is NOT a stereotype
She’s just a person
Just a woman
Standing at that same “No Smoking” sign
In her favorite 5 inch heels and fishnet stockings
Who likes to smoke so much she may even think it’d make her immortal

He lost it.
He could feel his sanity draining from his body and coming out through beads of sweat, the anger rising up into his now blood-red face and the infamous smoke shooting out of his ears, the earthquake taking place inside his body causing him to tremble and shake uncontrollably, the white flag that the first tear waved in an attempt to go back to the way things used to be, and the poor excuse for carpet now beneath what used to be his sanctuary but now was as much of any enemy as the world: his body. He could feel the stares of his curious killers glaring down at him with their judgement-filled eyes.
With no sense of time or care in the world, he closed his eyes and slipped away from the world in that moment on the carpet, holding an open and empty stapler and the knife he used to cut out the last bit of pain the world and his enemies had left behind.
He had not just lost it in one immediate mental breakdown over something trivial to society. No. His body and mind had been gradually giving up on him as the days of stress and hatred went by and the nights filled with tears and sorrow counted down until his demise.
It isn’t some immediate thing like a stab that cuts into your heart. It usually never is, but that is all people on the outside see: a sudden, quick, and inconvenient loss.
The pain and severity of the world crashing down around you and ultimately burying you into its eternal embrace, does not strike fast and leave just as quickly. Rather it drags the pain out until there is only a thin thread holding that person together. The littlest things can be what cuts that thread into two dangling and useless pieces of thread in the end. Though they may be seen as trivial, they are the person’s lasts hope that was then crushed right before them.
It never seems to be a clean cut either, but more of a dull and rigid cut that is, like the internal destruction of the world around you, dragged out until its end.
The littlest things, such as no more staples, can be the end of something so precious yet poisoned by the world: a beautiful life.

I just lie here
Balling my eyes out
Searching for my heart
But you stole it
Quite a while ago
And I’m not sure where you hid it
But it’s yours now
So I guess you don’t have to give it back

I guess I’ll just be in love with you forever
And that love won’t fade
Nor lessen
Nor dissolve

Because I guess I can only love you
Since you stole my heart

And then decided to destroy it
Stomp on it
Smash it
Hammer it
Run it over
And hide pieces of it everywhere

So if there ever comes a time
That you decide to give it back
It will never be the same
And I’ll always be missing pieces

No matter how much I search
Or how much glue and tape I use
It’s just too broken to be repaired

And you may tell me I have your heart
But I know **** well I don’t
I haven’t had it in a while
I guess you stole it back

Hmmm
You seem to be pretty good at that

Then you just gave your heart away
To her

And looks like now you have her heart
And mine

I can’t decide
If you actually love her like you say
Or if you’re just playing me to watch me cry

But you see I don’t have your heart
Just the imprint it made on my life
I’ll learn how to live
Crying myself to sleep because I’m thinking of you
Just so you can go to sleep smiling because you’re thinking of her

B.C.

A person should always strive to fulfill all of his dreams. This will allow him to thrive in his life.

Scars remind us where we've been, but they don't have to dictate where we're going.

Don't write cliches,
because people are more than just clichés.