They didn't listen when I said I was tired
I said that being different was hard
Because my jeans  don't fit right
My actual genes weren't right

And so I came out in comparison to everything
Already didn't have a father to teach me
The skies will cry if he ever tries to reach me
Not knowing who to trust was something girls my age don't worry about

They're far too happy living oblivious
And I question myself off of this-
How do they possibly not know
That they are all the same person?


Same gloss on smooth Pink lips
Smiling a shark smile that they do like kindness
And they name the rainbow by shades of eyeshadow- as if there wasn't enough color

   Girls like that are happy with the same person for a week
And yet I cannot be happy with myself for a day
Then they switch partners because "Don't  worry he's sooo cute!"
  
  I wonder if they are happier naive
And how hard it will be for them when they realize how the skies are actually smokey black
And they've been looking up through perfect eyelashes- but beauty doesn't last

   It must be nice always being average
With a cover girl to cover you sitting next to you
And manicured nails to scratch your way through life

We fall for our own illusion of love,
When in reality, it will all be a tragedy.

I don't write to pretend i'm deep,
I just am

How warm is the moon?
Can it sustain life?
It's like a natural balloon,
so be careful with your knife.
He's a funny little guy, that man up there.
I feel very bad some days, he seems lonesome.
At one point I was told he had a rabbit or a bear,
But it seems that they can't even fix his glum.
I don't know what to tell him,
I don't even know if I can,
But if I find a way to reach the rim,
I think I'd tell, him we'd all want that land.

An isolated farm house
In the outskirt of town.
At the strike of 3a.m
Someone came knocking.
With a lamp at hand
Old Mrs. Peterson descended the Stairs Into her quaint living room,
To the door she went.

"Knock knock" it came again
Puzzled, at the grandfather clock
She glanced.
"Knock knock" again it came.
In trepidation, she approached the door.
Key turned, doorchain detached,
Gingerly, she opens the door
There was no one. No one!

Few seconds later, she was startled
By the sounds of hooves
Thumping up her stairs,
And on the wall
Was the eerie shadow of
A humanoid creature
With ram horns and hooves.

     I had better call the sheriff
       *She mutters in displeasure
     **I have a **** bugler dressed in a crazy costume in my house

That song! That haunting song!
At twenty years of age,
Off his bed he rose
And to his window he went
There she was, seated in the swing
And singing to herself her lullaby.
It was always her favourite.

She lifted her blank eyes and held his
Those eyes sent shivers down his spine.
A ghost she was,
Why wouldn't she leave him be?
Yes, responsible for her death he was
But that was three years ago.

At thirty four, even after marraige
With three beautiful kids,
She still wouldn't leave that swing
Or put a stop to that **** song
He alone heard her
He told no one else about this ghost
But wanted nothing to do with her.

At fifty, she was still at the swing
Singing and swaying in the swing
She still looked sixteen,
But he looked frail.
He had tried to tell her off
But not a single word would she utter to him.
It was a **** gone wrong
A girlfriend in highschool,
Who had been adamant to give away her virtue.
And the overdose had killed her.

At seventy, an heart attack he had,
Right in the yard.
He couldn't breathe
And he couldn't cry for help.
At the brink of death, she finally left her perch
And floated to his dying body.
Only a sentence she whispered,
And it was colder than death itself.

**You were always my first love