Watch the world move, a day at a time. And once you’ve ceased trying, remember this rhyme.

Time doesn’t stand still. Not for a minute. For that minute is yours, and you better be in it.

I overestimate how much I can handle.

All of the time.

I just now discovered this about myself.

It changes nothing, I will always take on the world.

Even if it kills me.

I wish I was pretty in pictures
Those spontaneous ones
That others take
Because they want to capture your face
And keep it with them
Forever
I want to be pretty in pictures
Like those other girls
who smile and pose
and the picture comes out
pretty as ever
no matter their clothes
or their makeup
or hair
I wish I was pretty in pictures
But I guess you have to be pretty
Before you can be pretty in pictures.

away we go
me and you
off into the night
just where to?
into the castle of old
into the dungeons so cold
over the sea and the sky
look my dear
at how high we can fly.

I hate myself.

I never thought I would.
I wish you loved me.
Like you love them.
You threw me aside.
And made me think
What’s wrong with me?
I want.
What they have.
Because
If I had
What they have.
Maybe you would love me.  
Are they’re all throwing it away.
Life.
Everything is hard now.
So much harder than before.
It hurts to breathe sometimes.
It hurts less to cry.

I hate myself.
I never thought I would.

And you
You don’t listen
You just wait for me to stop talking
And I keep on giving
And you keep on taking
And it’s draining
I hate you for it
But I hate me more
Because I let you take
And I keep giving
And it never ends
This thing that we’re living

He is a swan and he sits on a black lake trying desperately to save his feathers from soiling.
They all sit around him bobbing their heads in the filth and minding not one bit.
And as time goes by he knows his feathers have begun to dull
And he tries to fly away from it all
But they refuse to let him, he cannot fly, he is but a swan they tell him with pleasure
And he keeps getting filthier as they help paint each feather
And the lake begins to look more like a prison
And he watches his reflection become what he hates
He forgets about that before that has driven him
And he waits and he waits and he waits and he waits
For something he knows will never come
Help from elsewhere so he won’t have to try
Help from elsewhere to make it easy to fly
This help does not come as it was never out there
There’s no help for a swan that’s full of despair
Only he can turn his prison of hate, a lake full of muck, into a better landscape
The day will come when the swan flies away
And the others will watch and they’ll wonder and gasp
Because they thought swans were only swans, they know this from swans that lived in the past
And as this swan flies, sure his feathers are dull, he can barely flap, and his wings are quite small
But now he can see every lake all around
For there are many that wait for him to be found.