I suppose I should be a star-gazer.
Expectant of everything,
As the stars are mapped and shown
To their place every night.
But it seems as though
Everyone has seen Hailey's Comet
And I've yet to see an asteroid.
Always waiting, waiting.
Is it such a task?
I place myself
At every possible spot.
Years and years pass - nothing.
Just a glimpse, just a drop
Of that euphoria of the first time,
The first wistful look into
The eyes of such a wonder.
But it moves away from me.
Every **** time.
Seeing the flaws
And jagged downfalls within me.
I am just a simple star.
He is the comet.
Never shall the two touch.
Hush, little baby, don't you cry,
Don't you hide away in the night,
I know Daddy screams,
And Momma too,
But I will be right here for you.
It'll end soon,
I promise that,
So please, please,
Don't touch that knife.
Honey, I know you tried
You wanted everyone to know
That I was the biggest idiot in town
Just for 'betraying' you.
I did nothing of that sort.
I just pointed out the truth
The ******* you came up with and painted
Has been found out and I'm not for it.
So maybe I care more about myself
Than about your stupid desires
I know more about the insides of
What your ******* caused.
So you've decided to take that
The last bit I was going for in this program
It's not like you were going to put me in anyways.
So you decided to 'rat me out'.
Call me an idiot and warn others
About the crap that happens
When people defy you.
That will totally get respect.
Honey, haven't you been watching?
Even Disney movies know
Respect never grows out of fear
But of course,
You're still convinced it's 2001
And high school is still happening for you
And you're still queen.
The joke's on you.
I'm already alienated from a lot of people
You're still an idiot
That nobody thinks is an adult.
You're just as 'immature' as the rest of us.
But excuse my french,
Je ne suis pas comme toi.
Je ne suis pas tres stupide.
so i practiced some french? probably not perfect, i know.
As I let the memory
Of my last battle
I realize myself.
I know my decision.
I follow it.
I only do things
That make me
Happy in the best way
I only force myself
When I will benefit
Greatly from the suffering
This was useless suffering
I will be fine
Maybe a bit scratched
Probably a tad scarred
Definitely talked about
Negatively and positively.
If that's all,
I've had worse things happen to me.
feeling a bit thoughtful today.
Nothing to think of.
Not really threatening in most senses.
Walls are what kept me out
And still do.
Are what are between me and good conversation
And blocking out my sobs
Are slowly crumbling
But it'll be a while
I'm sorry if that hurts
But they're simply my walls
We're not exactly close friends
At least, not in my terms.
Yet you insist that we are so much alike.
You scream to the world
Not of any passionate emotion
Just of how much better you are because you're wierd.
Honey, you just made yourself normal, for one.
You are not better or worse
Just because you call yourself wierd.
And you're kind of a hypocrite.
As the true 'freak' would not give a single ****
About what it is that people think
And I see that you care a lot.
One must to want to hide behind a label.
'Ooh, look at me, I'm [insert here]'
Labels, labels, labels.
Shut up about them for one ****** second,
And realize that that won't take you anywhere.
You claim we are both like my favorite character.
I can say that I am,
I've read it three times and hold it close to my heart.
You take its misgivings about society and laugh.
That is not what it's ******* about!
It's about an introvert finding his way!
You are no introvert.
I'll let you have that label.
As for the rest,
I'll punch it out of your mouth someday.
About no one in particular.
Or maybe it is.
I've never given a **** anyhow.
Thinking. And thinking.
It's always about a number of things,
My mind never likes only one topic
Mostly because I get bored easy.
And I think, I'm not interested in boys.
I'm interested in men.
Not this annoying, ball-less ******* that hasn't learned a thing.
Maybe that's why I'm forever in love with Tom Hiddleston.
And I think, my body is wierd.
Made of broken pieces,
Glued together by angel spit.
(I guess it's been battered, as my bones are falling apart as we speak.)
And I think, I'm done with friendship.
All it seems to do is bring me woe.
You all are now acquaintances,
Far enough away that you can't shoot me.
And I finally think, I'm happy.
Even with the **** scars and broken heart,
I like the words I speak and how they power through a room.
I love each morning, a new oppurtunity for adventure.
I'm in a good mood, wey hey.