Stop.

Breathe.

Write.


My heartbeat slows as the words flow out
Sometimes I can't believe these words come from my mouth
Or my fingers should I say perhaps
Nonetheless, these are mine
I keep them in this mind I call my knapsack

In this knapsack of mine,
Are the things people never see
So to write from it is hard sometimes
These are my personal feelings

I'm tired of being true to everyone but myself
It's okay that I'm not okay, it's okay to need a little help
But don't listen to them when they say,
"You can't do this on your own"
They only say that because they couldn't
Girl, they don't know the ways you're strong

I gotta keep putting faith in these bones
I possess the only arms that I've ever called home
My soul is independent because my strength runs deep
And to be able to see that now, means a lot to me

I've come a long way
And I've still got a long way to go
But don't think I'll ever say,
"I can't do this on my own."

You don't know her,
and she doesn't know you,
but she'll smile right back,
In hopes that you smile, too

She's got a heart of gold
But she's blind as a bat

So you want to get to know her?
You want to trace your way
Through the roots beneath her feet
But boy, she grows guarded
She's not just any tree

She's got a heart of gold
But she won't give you that

You don't know her,
don't ask her to stay
You're no different
And she will push you away

She's got a heart of gold
But she's strong as nails

There's no saying how close
She'll decide to pull you in
But don't get comfortable
She will shed you like skin

She's got a heart of gold
But she doesn't need a thing

Don't blame her
She doesn't know what she does
She only sees the aftermath
The bruises and the cuts
She will look at them all wide-eyed
"Who would do such a thing?"
She simply cannot fathom
All the pain her love can bring

She's got a heart of gold
But she's blind as a bat

I have come to a conclusion.

We are in an endless cycle.

We wake up and think about food.
We eat sugary cereals for breakfast
so we go to school or work thinking about food.

Afterschool, we watch food and beauty advertisements
that make us feel bad about ourselves,
so what do we do?
Shop for food and clothes to make us
"feel better" and to "fill the void."

After shopping, we get tired and watch television
where we, yet again, shovel even MORE food
into our lifeless pieholes.

We also don't want to cook anything,
so our meals consist of Campbell's soups, frozen pizzas and leftovers of whatever casserole is in the house.

Even after eating dinner, we are tempted to eat more,
so we have DESSERT!

Because of our constantly on-the-go lifestyle, half the time we are not even conscious of what we're eating.

Ironically, yet predictably, we go to sleep thinking about what we will have for breakfast the next day.

What do we do when chemical companies like Monsanto try to poison our food?
We fight 'em!
What do we do when our government supports the exportation of millions of jobs to foreign countries?     We fight 'em!
What do we do when the FDA approves unfit and under-tested medicine for our use?
We fight 'em!
What do we do when we find out that the NSA has been spying on us for many years?
We fight until they are stopped!

Right now is the perfect time for revolution. The bourgeoisie will create the spark and will lead the poor out of the cave of ignorance.
But we can't do this alone.
If you want a better life for you and your posterity
**FIGHT 'EM!

Who are you and why do you have this effect on me?
You walked in the room and I can hardly breath
Do you make me nervous on purpose, or is it just me?
Are you doing this on purpose?
I'm falling so quickly

I don't wanna rush it and call it too soon
But if you were the sun, then I'd be the moon
Your eyes illuminate the streets with the only light I can see
I'm just a deer in your headlights when you look at me

Take me anywhere you want to go
I'd follow you into the dark in places I don't know
Wherever you are is where I want to be
You're everything I want, and all that I can see

If you have a hint of doubt about the things that I have said
Just believe me when I say, you do laps inside my head
If you leave it up to me,
I'd tell you to stick around
You be the tree,
I'll be the roots in the ground
I'll help you grow and try to give you everything you need
Darling, it'd make me happy if you grew old with me

Just wait
That's what they say
When I talk about me meeting the girl of my dreams
But why
I mean, I will wait
I will wait for the day to come
When I'll be struck by love
But please don't imply that it is a simple task
It is far from that.
As I wait I am counting the wasted moments I could be spending with her
The unshared sunsets
The unwritten sonnets
I am drowning in a sea of unfulfilled potential
But in the end I truly don't mind for I know that the moment that I'll meet her is worth it.
Worth this loneliness
So I won't "just wait"
I will strive
Strive to be a better man
To become the one able
To hold her hand

I have this idea of you.
Tattooed and beautiful.
Sarcastic and witty,
with a silver tongue
that tastes better than
the richest chocolate.

Are you struck with her figure and face?
    How lucky you happened to meet
With none of the gossiping race,
    Who dwell in this horrible street!
They of slanderous hints never tire;
    I love to approve and commend,
And the lady you so much admire,
    Is my very particular friend!

How charming she looks — her dark curls
    Really float with a natural air;
And the beads might be taken for pearls,
    That arc twined in that beautiful hair:
Then what tints her fair features o'erspread -
    That she uses white paint some pretend;
But, believe me, she only wears red
    She's my very particular friend!

Then her voice, how divine it appears
    While carolling: "Rise gentle moon;"
Lord Crotchet lastnight stopped his ears,
    And declared that she sung out of tune;
For my part, I think that her lay
    Might to Malibran's sweetness pretend;
But people won't mind what I say —
    I'm her very particular friend!

Then her writings — her exquisite rhyme
    To posterity surely must reach;
(I wonder she finds so much time
    With four little sisters to teach!)
A critic in Blackwood, indeed.
    Abused the last poem she penned;
The article made my heart bleed —
    She's my very particular friend!

Her brother dispatched with a sword,
    His friend in a duel, last June;
And her cousin eloped from her lord,
    With a handsome and whiskered dragoon:
Her father with duns is beset,
    Yet continues to dash and to spend —
She's too good for so worthless a set —
    She's my very particular friend!

All her chance of a portion is lost,
    And I fear she'll be single for life;
Wise people will count up the cost
    Of a gay and extravagant wife:
But tis odious to marry for pelf,
    (Though the times are not likely to mend,)
She's a fortune besides in herself —
    She's my very particular friend!

That she's somewhat sarcastic and pert,
    It were useless and vain to deny;
She's a little too much of a flirt,
    And a slattern when no one is by:
From her servants she constantly parts,
    Before they have reached the year's end;
But her heart is the kindest of hearts —
    She's my very particular friend!

Oh! never have pencil or pen,
    A creature more exquisite traced;
That her style does not take with the men,
    Proves a sad want of judgment and taste;
And if to the sketch I give now,
    Some flattering touches I lend;
Do for partial affection allow —
    She's my very particular friend!

Sometimes he let his eyes rest on hers, it needn't have been painful,
but it strangely was.
He broke a lifetime of avoiding eye contact to show her.
She was worth overcoming obstacles for.