I'm so caught up in who's prettier than who and who has more friends;
I'm convinced that life is a popularity contest, and it needs to end.

I need to stop caring about how many likes I get on an Instagram picture;
And really start caring about how I see myself and making sure that's pure.

I feel like I need to compete for attention with the people I love most;
We shouldn't need to fight for the spotlight and when we lose feel like ghosts.

We are in the shadow of everyone else's success when we should be recognized for our own strengths;
We all go to the wildest point to make others happy, while going to the longest lengths.

I need to realize that I have a family and true friends who love me for me;
And I don't need 100 likes on a picture to tell me how I should be.

Doors slam like Satan himself is
in a fit of rage below us, even if he is
in the deepest level of Hell, I feel the floor
shaking like a 6.0 has just swept us but it
is only a consequence of wood slamming
against wood and fists fighting doorknobs.

Voices rise like the temperature in Arizona
in the summer, abruptly, hot and heavy, so
quickly stifling any chance of relief—
anger is an emotion I am far too familiar with.

Some people live quiet family lives, are never
interrupted in their sleep by screams from a
father who dreams of death and a mother who
carries a scythe of shame as if she is the Reaper,
some people wake up in the morning knowing
there is breakfast waiting on the table, fresh eggs
hot off the stove and orange juice with pulp, but
others wake up and make coffee for themselves,
knowing parents sleep past noon and
we are the ones who are doomed to repeat the
history of abuse and psychological suffering but:
we are the ones who will help to stifle the shouts,
to put a stop to slamming doors and shrill screams,
dysfunctional daily routines and waiting for hope
that never arrives, we have had lives consisting
of always having to act stronger than we feel
when the floorboards seem to be breaking just
beneath the force of our feet, because our
bodies are not just our bodies, we are carrying
burdens that weigh more than our bones and
blood cells combined, so when we step on the
scale the number we're reading is really how
much hurt we have been holding, not how
much food we've been hoarding inside of us.

We are the children of complex family situations,
we are spend-more-time-in-psychologist-offices-than
we-do-in-our-own-roo­ms, we are no-parent-to-tuck
us-in-at-night-read-yourself-a-story-it-builds-­ability.
We are daydreams of escaping like Rapunzel,
we are how do I save myself from a nightmare when
I am already awake? We are years of reading self-help
books in Barnes and Noble until we finally understood
that the only thing to do is to help the world help us:
we are strong. And we understand that family exists,
but for us it is different. We are the children who find
comfort in books and coffee and anything outside
of a house so filled with tension and hatred, and we
have been waiting to fix ourselves for too long.

Lurking around every corner you pass;
Waiting and watching to see if you'll last.

Being judged about every move you make;
And they wonder how long until you break.

You watch them whisper and giggle until you start to cry;
As they continue, you can't help but feel shy.

You're afraid that the crying will turn into much more;
But as you think about it, your body becomes sore.

Crying, cutting and starving won't help you at all;
But it gets so bad that you're now as soulless as a doll.

You've hit rock bottom as the scars start to appear;
Only then you see how bad, and you spill a few tears.

When you look in the mirror you don't recognize yourself;
You've hurt yourself badly, and believe you belong on the shelf.

You sit there is silence hating yourself for what you've become;
At that moment you decide to turn your life around, and leave the situation numb.

What I'm about to say, is not a lie
I have no proof but I can't deny
The idea provoked and makes me cry
To me its true. Till the day I die

There was no beginning, there will be no end
The universe realized I need a friend
You sneaked in like a critter to fill a hole
An empty space in my heart, the same one you stole

And like my heart, you serve a similar purpose
Without it I would be lifeless, meaningless, an empty abyss
Running speechless and blind in a captivating hell
Drowning slowly but surely in a never ending well

Maybe there exists a phenomenon called fate
Somewhere there's a fisherman using you as bait
Depending on your smell and beauty he would wait
Till I get lured around to replenish steady state

EVERYTHING is what I would like to offer you
INFINITY is how long I would like to spend with you
If you would offer me a ticket to spend eternity with you
I would without hesitation tell you that I do

The connection that we have ignores the laws of science
The force that pulls you closer, betraying this defiance
Call it love, call it lust, call it desire, call it trust
I will feel this way about you till my body turns to dust