I walk streets alone, marching with ghosts
They see me, but I tell myself
They can't.
Seven Billion ghosts,
But you're the only one who
Doesn't stare
And you’re the only one who
Doesn't see.

The first night there was nothing in my bed
One by one, all the dirt piles piled
Now my blanket is made of woven grass
My pillow is crowded with daisy chains

A black-n-white world, now raining rainbows,
‘Till blush blooms on the faces of the dead
A kaleidoscope girl, fading far’way,
‘Till her raw red eyes grow distant and cold.

I march streets alone, walking with people
They don’t see me; I tell myself
They can.
Billions of people,
But you’re the only one who
Stares at me
You’re the only one
To see me
For me.

People die from lightning,
but that doesn't stop us from dancing in the rain.
Creatures lurk the bottom of the ocean,
but we still swim on it's shores.
****** happens daily,
but that shouldn't stop us from making friends.
Teenagers have their hearts broken,
but we still kiss like we found the one.
Life shouldn't be spent in the dark, "safe,"
live while you can,
learn while you can,
you only have this one life,
don't waste it
because life is a sad, sad thing,
full of so many tragedies,
so much death and destruction,
it's a thing that slowly kills you,
a thing that can be stolen in seconds.
Living shouldn't be spent inside,
locked away from the horrors.
Living should be about, well,
Life.

Look at what you did --
you foolish girl.
Don't you remember --
words spoken
long before the crisp autumn breeze --
the oath you took?
The promise you made.
Took some time to rehabilitate,
but just as quickly
you've left all sense behind
for the drug.
You foolish girl,
so easily you thought
you could control it.
Now look at what you've done:
valleys of fire surround the
shattered pieces of
broken glass.
The same glass that he said he could fix,
so you sat in the fire,
let the flames lick at your charred skin,
as you fumbled with a puzzle with no image.
Look at what's become of you.
Do you even remember what it was like before?
No great detective could
paint you a picture of the past.
Look at what you did --
you foolish girl.
That oath will forever echo in your head.
I hope you never forget it;
I hope it follows you to your grave.

I may not be alone,
but the people around me walk with plugged ears.
What good is a mouth if not for speaking?
I may not be alone,
but God is the only one that will listen.
What good is family if they refuse to listen?
I may not be alone,
but I am the only one who sees me.
What good is a mirror if all it does is make me dread?
I may not be alone,
but I will go unloved.
What good is a lover if he's just a dream?
I may not be alone,
but I might as well be.

Take this red ribbon and tie it to a tree
this is how I'll know you always think of me.

Take a silver string and tie it to your bedside
this is how I'll know you never lied.

Take the charcoal cloth and tie it to a light pole
this is how I'll know you want me for my soul.

Take this blue band and wrap it around my greatest fear
this is how I'll know you wanted to catch my every tear.

Take a thistle tread and drape it over my greatest dream
this is how I'll know you always supported my crazy scheme.

You've given me reasons to pause
make me believe again in what was
Take these fabrics and show me I was wrong
I have to make sure I can still bring you along.

the darkness is my blanket
as i sit alone cold and broken
in the silence of falling tears
there is a blue light that drowns me
coating me in a false tranquility
unable to rest
the dead raising from their graves
coming after me
haunting me
suffocating me with boney talons
the claws rake at my skin
leaving it lacerated and raw
red tears running along blue tears
until im bleeding blue and crying red
and even though the darkness is my blanket
i shiver and shake
i fear and tremble
i bleed and cry
i feel no tranquility
so long as the dead haunt me.

It's the best place to cry.
It's the place where it all surrounds you,
Covering you, engulfing you, drowning you.
It falls over you like every pound of weight placed on your shoulders,
It falls and runs over your barren, exposed, vulnerable body,
And when it hits the floor -- its gone, washed down the drain,
But it's replaced by another, and another, and another,
Never ceasing, never pausing, never calming.
It beats at your back, your face, you chest,
Until your skin in red, sore, raw.
It's the place where you don't feel tears,
It's impossible to tell if they're yours, or the water falling on you.
It's the best place to cry,
The shower.

It's a good place to cry,
It's a mask that protects you,
Covering you, surrounding you, isolating you,
It hides every acid drop that rips away at your eyes and cheeks,
It conceals you from others, banishes their comfort,
It makes you alone, weak, vulnerable
They can't see you, they won't know these feelings, they don't care.
They can't see through their ignorance, so I've used it to protect myself.
It's a mask that leaves everyone none the wiser,
All you have to do is wipe the stray tears away.
It's a good place to cry,
Sunglasses.

It's an unexpected place to cry.
It's a scary place, because everyone can see you.
And the scary part is, they do nothing but watch.
The ignorance of the mask is taken away, replaced with clarity.
They can see tears, but they will choose not to acknowledge them.
Light reflects from it, hiding some features, but the picture is still there,
Staring them in the face.
They can see the redness, watch the tears as they gather and charge your dry cheeks.
They watch, but pretend they didn't see anything because they have chosen
not
to
deal
with
it.
It's an unexpected place to cry,
Glasses.












I'm sorry.
I shall take my pain somewhere else,
Take my suffering to the farthest depths of my heart,
in hopes it will not destroy my soul.
I will feed your ignorance,
your picture of a blemishless world,
And pretend I'm a perfect person, in your perfect world.
I will suppress each tear, choke down each sob, and straggle each tremor,
I'm exhausted, but I must keep running
Running away from your misguided decisions, your accusations, your falsifications.
They are like hot iron, branded into my skin like livestock.
So,
I'm sorry,
I will destroy myself to spare your ignorance.

Love is a tricky thing.
It can be received, but not given.
It can be lent, and never returned.
You are what you love, not who loves you.

It's a great relief to hear:
you are what you love, not who loves you
Someone else's emotions towards you
doesn't define you.
Its how you feel and
how you act
that really matters.

And yes, you may love
the wrong thing then,
but that's not now.
So that doesn't define
your future!
It's domain is the past.
You must let it rule there,
or else it will
invade your future.
You are what you love, not who loves you.

Love life.
Love happiness.
Love the smell of summer rain.
Love the feel of soft grass.
Love the chill of snow and
the heat of the sun.
Charish what you love.
Charish you.
*You are what you love, not who loves you.