After all this time you quite possibly remain my favorite thing.

Your words...
Your smile...
Your eyes...
Your laugh...
Your hair...
Your voice...
Your hands...

After all this time you definitely still are my favorite thing.

I have lung made of paper bags
                                                            ­                      and a spine made of glass.
I spend my life walking on thin ice,
                                                            ­                 knowing that if I slip I will break.
I can't walk with great posture,
                                                        ­                because the weight on my shoulders.
My mind is full of cliche metaphors
                                                       ­                 and clouded with the stress of living.
The more I panic and my breathing increases,
                                                   the­ more my paper bags start to strain and crinkle.
The more I walk around with the weight I try to carry,
                                                          ­       the risk of shattering my glass spine rises.
My eyes are closed,
                                                 and my hands are ***** from trying to dig myself up.
To stop my lungs from straining,
                                                                    I stop myself from breathing.
To lessen the risk of my spine breaking,
                                                               I lay in bed and never move around.

I am a raindrop
Formed in the clouds
In the
Eye
Of a titanic storm.
My life
Rushessssss
Past my eyes
I am
Out of control
Flailing
Falling
Plunging
To my
Death
I wish I could
stop
And take
In the
World
Around me
But I'm long gone
Falling
Too
*splat

"Not all who wander
are lost"
Yet still, I wonder
where am I
and where are we going?

But I know where I am
I'm in a library,
sipping a coffee
lost in my thoughts

Any of which range
from "what's for dinner?"
to "why am I here?"
Ranging from shallow
to deep.

My mind making
leap to leap.
Leaving me confused
and wondering,
Where am I
and where are we going?

I've seen hobos and hippies at bus stops
Goths, drunks and stoners
Pretty skinny girls with Starbucks in their pretty hands and leggings
Quiet girls with notebooks
Guys who are loud and always smiling
Guys who keep to themselves
People wearing a moustache and a skirt
Mothers with 6 children and a pet bird perched on their stroller
I always wonder of them
I have seen you
With your nice eyes
And silence
The quiet way you don't speak
How you always wear long sleeves
And I wonder about you
...Does anybody ever wonder about me?
I doubt it.
You have to be interesting, to be wondered about.
Or in a movie.
Or a book.
Or a fairytale.
You need to live in daydreams.
I think I need to move.

It's been awhile since I've
took the time to write
Even though I've been
try hard with all my might

Yet, I don't know
where to start
Shall I talk about what's
On my brain or the pains in my heart

Even thought life for me
was hard still im ******* stressed
People telling me to be happy
And that I'm blessed

But that doesn't stop the demons
Inside of my that's beating on my chest
If I were to give you the key
and let you inside

The image that I presented
to you surely Will die
I'm a constant wreck
And please done ask me why

Times I want to take a ice pick
An shove within my eyes
To blind my from all the *******
I'm seeing with my eyes

From the hat pouring out my
Mother when she cries
Or the fact that I'm built
From nothing but lies

Can't tell the truth to no one
but myself
Buried from guilt and hatred
Thats deep Within myself

Now I'll i see is It's your fault
it's your fault inside that mirror
Feeling like I dead to her
She won't let me be near her

I'm alone now....

In a room full of people
I'm by myself
In a relationship with someone
I'm the only one who has felt

It's all be cause you you
That I feel this way
On April 6th I will always dread thil I
be came dead to you
And it will probably stay that way