I wonder what I look like
To those on the other side
Am i just a lost girl
Or am I wanderlust

I have no goal
For I fear failure
The past has made me
Given me my name

A hurricane happened
Destroying my home
New walls were built
They forgot the door

The thing about walls
They keep me inside
I struggle to find the sun
And to see my friends

Those were things
That kept me alive
Kept my heart
Beating inside

Now I look out windows
More intrigued by the seams
I had it all figured out
Now I'm puzzled

I've lost all hope
To find what I'm looking for
For I do not know
What it is I seek.

Here we are again, stuck on the floor
Crawling across the carpet to what is no more
Screaming inside "I still love you more."
With those words, my heart you tore
And left me abandoned on the shore
So here I am, on the floor
Still crawling across these wooden floor boards

there is more to life than love,
but everyone is in such a rush.
slow down, there will be time
for weddings
and babies
and buying a house.
remember when
we used to stay out all night
just driving around
with the windows down?
we would dream of getting older,
all the places we would go...
we were going to travel to Europe together
and maybe never come back.
but now i'm alone in this sentiment
everyone so blinded by love
maybe i just got it out of my system
high school boyfriends never worked.
or maybe everyone just found "the one"
and mine was "the one that got away"
or maybe some people are just content
with the small town they grew up in.
but not me
there is **** to do and people to see.
every now and then
i get lonely, so i try,
but if a relationship gets too cozy,
i get the urge to run,
and i cannot fathom
why the rest don't do the same.

Some nights
Its great to write
Long stories that are bright
Today is not
Tonight is filled
With thoughts that could ****
Hopefully it only lasts until
Tomorrow comes
With rays of sun
To dry up the mud

Do you remember Midwest Weather?
It seems I'm stuck in winter.
Some sunshine skies allowed.
Though the skies are dreary now,
The fiercest is very promising.
In days to come there's a high of 75,
Only a few with an overcast sky.

In all the crooked corners of my mind,
Cobwebs and dust mites are all I find.
There's no longer a sense of reality,
I can only see a ton of duality.
My stories now have dust mites,
Whose bindings have layers that are contrite.
So where is it that I should seek,
A tale that is not so bleek?

These are the days she fears the most.
When she wakes in the morning,
there's something askew.
She will try and get out,
out of her warm, soft blankets
before the buzzing of her phone
reminds her that she must work.
These days, though, she'll fail,
and stay cocooned until ten minutes
before she has to make the short journey.
She'll normally crawl out of bed,
pour a hot cup of coffee with one sugar,
drink it slowly while inhaling
her first nicotine fix for the day.
These days, though, she ran out the door,
coffee in hand, and didn't light the first cigarette
until she was already on the main road
to the hell hole she was employed at.
Usually, by now, her mood will have changed.
However, these days it just seemed to get worse.
Stuck between broiler and fryer,
she sat with chalky vinyl gloves
scrubbing the dirt and grease away.
She would think to herself,
"Haven't I done this before, to myself?"
These were the days she hated most.
When her co-workers ask,
"You're not your normal self?"
"How am I to be normal when I am
stuck here with people much better?"
She should know better, by now,
to not think this way,
but everything today was pointing
towards the barrel of a gun.
She finished her shift, eight minutes late,
ran to her car to be saved by the grace,
the grace of her car and a warm voice on the phone.
This day was finally getting better,
but then she walked in the door
where it was do this, do that,
screams here, screams there,
crying here, crying there.
These days, everything just got worse.
She finally mustered up enough anxiety
to tell everyone she needed some space,
so she took her best friend,
on four doppy long legs he stood,
for a short walk around the block.
She was finally clearing her head
of the overdosing thoughts,
when her ****** nosey neighbor,
stepped out onto her walk,
making conversation uncomfortable,
after five minutes she got on her way.
This girl finally decided
that it may be time for another cancer stick,
to wash some of the nerves away.
Once back around, she still was on edge,
pretty typical of these days, at least.
She went to her room,
and made yet another phone call,
to the same one as earlier,
it helped a bit more this time through,
until children came into the picture.
Normally, this would be fine,
even liked, but these days,
No.
No one was allowed inside this girl's head,
for these were the days she feared most.