all I ask of you,
don't buy me flowers.
take me to a garden.
for I get sad when they die.
when they are ripped
from their roots
in the ground.
their time for
growing is up.
they can no longer
have conversations
with the sun
or the grass
or the rain
as it kisses them
so softly.

Do you really love them?
Do you just say that because they say I love you?
Do you just say that because you love their big brown eyes?
Do you just say that because you like the idea of having a boyfriend?

Do you actually love them?

I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶  I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
                                                  I­̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶  h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶  y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
                                                   ­        I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶  y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶          I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶       I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶ r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
               I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶  I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
        I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
   I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶  h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶                                    I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
         I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
                                                   ­                             I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
               I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
                                     I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
    I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶  I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶  r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶I̶'̶  l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶  e̶r̶
̶       I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶         ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
                                 I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶     I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶   r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶  d̶e̶r̶
          


                                    ­               ᵤntᵢl my
lₑgs bᵣₑₐk

          bₑfₒᵣₑ my ₑyₑs clₒsₑ

                                                      
                                                                ­                      blₑₑdᵢng nₒsₑ

            until
             I break myself
                 for trying my hardest

Right person at the wrong time?
But maybe there isn't a wrong time
If it's the right person

i am the sea
and you think you are a submarine
completely submerged
in the deepest part of me,
but you are a boat
barely touching the surface of the water.
and the only way to let you in
is to fill you up
with me.

What does it mean to be human?
Does it mean that your body is flesh and bone?
My body is made of plastic.
What are you made of?
What makes a person whole?
Is it fulfillment? Happiness? Soul?
Whatever the case, I am not whole.
Are you?
Are humans intelligent or ignorant?
I am both.
Which one are you?
Are humans kind or wicked?
I do not know which one I am.
Do you know?
Do humans get to choose who they are?
I have tried to mould myself as best I can, into the person I want to be
Have you?
Are you human?
I am, decidedly, not human.
I am that which I do not know of
I am that which I do not wish to discover
I hope never to know who I am.
Who are you?