Stomp!
           Stomp!
                      Stomp!
On my rose colored glasses,
  Feeling the delightful crunch
    Between my shoe and the concrete
      As I twist my foot back and forth.

             I'm done with that style.
               I want to see the ugly.

Please someone,
Anyone out there,
Come to me and destroy me.

Reduce me to nothing more than
Glass turned to sand on the floor.
Pieces so tiny there is no chance of repair.

Force me to stop seeing light in blackened caves.
To stop searching for rainbows in the storm.
Make me stop believing in Angels
And realize there is nothing left here
But demons.

I need an eye opening heartbreak so deep that I stop believing fantasy
And start to see reality.

Bring me out of the clouds,
Away from my daydreams,
And make me into a hardened statue
Just like all the rest.

You're a vulture.
Picking at weakened dead meat
To the point where
No one can just be.

You'll scavenge for every true part of me
Until all that is left
Is the skeleton underneath.

You prefer walking dead corpses
Of your own making
Instead of just letting others
Be comfortable enough
To be themselves.

I dont want to continue to love people more than they love me.

How do people condition themselves to grow in inches instead of feet?

The sun doesn't stop shining just because there are people who hate the heat.

I can't seem to figure out the ones who prefer the shade.
Why can't it be as visible as those wearing sunglasses and covered in sunscreen so I know to just stay away?