Remember a time when you cared about me and my life,
when lights were dim and you lit wood on fire just for me,
before 10:40 p.m was too late to talk to me because you cared,
and now I'm scared, sitting on the edge of my bed afraid
like a cat set astray, I'm afraid of what might come by being alone
because being at home was everything you made me feel
and now the steel, the wood, the bricks are all disappearing
and the searing memory burnt into my mind is all that is present.

Please tell me , do you care enough to tell me you're okay,
tell me about your day, what you feel you have to say,
just the way things had once been. I'm tired and alone
waiting for a hello that probably won't come.

I crave the attention but I'm dying for the reminder that you
at least care about me.

Do you still remember me? The guy who's heart has been hurting
worsened by the simple objects in my room, because my room
is painted purple yet feels blue because I have mental images
that spans limitless, all of which I spent time with you
watched the tissue get discarded onto the floor as we cry our eyes out
from the cloud of movies where a man falls in love with a girl
who becomes his whole world only to have things fall apart
as dismembered hearts sit atop the shelf of books untouched, dust filled
because unwilled hearts chose to separate, and life is so much like nature
left and right danger, trust is a hill and mutual care & love is a mountain,
so very worth it but yet so very hard to climb.

I just want to say I love you
and clench onto my chest
that you will say it right back
but I'm not sure what to do.

I've said it over a million times,
all of which are in my mind,
so you'll never hear how I feel
when I want you to be mine.

When I was a kid, my mother told me I needed to grow up quicker
We'd bicker about how life is a straight line and I needed to be a man
with guidance and plans like the palm of my hands wrote my life story
before I could even ignore me. When I was a kid, I wanted to be a man,
that believed night-lights were a scam to force little minds to sleep
like sheep who were always counted on to put eyelids to rest.
When I was a kid, I wanted to be a man, a man who stayed up all night
and sighed the next morning that I did not get enough time to sleep.
When I was a kid, I wanted to be a man, but the definitions kept changing, and based on society's placement, I was far away from being a man.
I hid the kid inside me locked away behind bars of ribs,
because kids were not allowed in bars, nor were they allowed at work,
at worst I found myself smiling not for the sake of me but others.
I held judgement that grew like a crimson rose with bitter petals
just trying to settle my old moments, live the memories in open
and hope that putting the kid inside me away was the better choice.
My voice, though deep could seep the minds of those who cared enough,
to graft dreams that bare enough for me to help see them through it.
I wish that I knew it, that being a man was somewhat of a ****** dream
because the gleam is never as bright as the source of the light,
and lonely nights were only more terrifying when you're awake.
I met a girl with a beautiful face, who dared to tell the truth
that a roof is merely a ceiling in a simple way and the fact
that I acted like a man did not make me one. I remember the words
like a curse tainting families with the plague for generations
meant to bring indignation but it didn't. The words she said
went to my head and travelled through to my heart like roots
growing shoots that helped me understand that I could change.
'Men don't do that, boys do that'.

I'm a man built on the pressures surrounded me
that I've been remnants of others more than I have been myself
and a night's help could not tell how far that I have been lost.
I tossed away fiction with satisfaction because like Pinocchio
who wanted to be a real boy, I found myself wishing the same
when tears clogged my face as I stood over my best friend's grave...
I was a man who wanted to be a kid, but I've hidden that kid so deep
that I can only ever find him in my sleep, because feeling like a kid again
would only ever come in my dreams.

I watched her body left to rest and I wondered yet...
Why was I a kid who wanted to be a man?

This is for everyone who told you,
You can't do it, you will never achieve

You look into the mirror and see that your reflection doesn't believe

Inner thoughts of disbelief, dishonesty in reach, your only lying to yourself, when you say that you can't be

Something else, one of a kind
only one thought will bring ease to your mind

Knowing that you can glide, succeed in motions astride, believe and open your mind to that fact that your life is fine

Your more than a piece of gold, your simply extraordinary, don't let these words exist in your vocabulary

"I'm a quitter" their simply non-existent think bigger, brighter look into that future of yours

For the world is at your feet, don't let your dreams fall underneath

I'm a tower, more like as tall as can be

I simply watch over those who need help when they seem In distress or depressed, I want to help them believe

I try to fill the gaps in between, all the
Stress and the heat, because these last following weeks, I haven't been able to sleep

This is a message for me and but
  more for the person who reads

I will not quit but succeed
I will just stand, not retreat

I've died beyond these lines
A million times just to see you smile.
I'll trade infinite lives for every chance
at one minute drives with you.
The view without your side is empty,
it's plenty of space yet a small expanse.

The infinite skies but all I want is a smile
to see you happy.

I found an empty book, it's labelled biology- grade nine,
fake lines ran across the book, never any real content,
to feel content with what I read was an impossible matter,
scattered diagrams of human anatomy too far from realism
because realistic diagrams would include labels to hearts
with coloured charts stating that 'this may fall apart-
not by fat barricades, but to paraphrase a different place,
Neruda chases the stars and from afar as the cages of ribs
would rip and sometimes, just enough to have felt loved,
to feel enough with being held for just a night, a short time,
but life is built beyond a biology book.

It is so strange that I have learnt so much more about life
than ninth grade biology because being biologically correct
doesn't ***** the hairs on my back as an assortment of words
like an assortment of birds aren't really meant to be described
as assortments and a biology book isn't really meant to describe life.