i am not an it.
i am not an object.
i have a pulse.
i have a beating heart.
i am made of stardust.
i am made up of skin and bones.
and you still call me an **it.
your mind can't grasp the idea that
i am a strong woman one day
and a strong male the next.

my pulse stops when our hands interlock
my palms sweat when i see you
my legs feel numb when we're intertwined
and i feel like my brain bounces off the walls
of my skull when you leave
i feel the withdrawal in my bones
but my heart knows that
you'll come back
tomorrow.

tell me why
the people who want to change the world
are the ones that have nothing
but the ones who refuse to change anything
have everything-
money, notoriety, and most notable of all
greed.
can some please explain why
we send money to hungry kids overseas
yet we're blind to the young ones
that are starving right in front of us?
i just want to know why a hijab is
considered a weapon in america
but a gun is not.
more importantly what i don't understand
is how come women slave around for 9 months
producing the human race
yet we have no choice over our own bodies?
we have made "progress"
things are apparently "moving ahead"
however, the right-wingers are putting that into your mind.
if you look really close at what's happening
you'll see you've been living an american lie.
no one is free, really,
no freedom of love
or freedom our bodies
we are the property of a corrupt government
that apparently nurture us but only lie to us in the end.

roses are red
your lips are blue
i hope you like these flowers
because they're for you.
they say you can't hear me
but i don't care
because deep inside
i know you're there.
your skin is pale
and the machines beep
but i know your heart
is mine to keep.
the line is about to go flat
please don't go
you're the one i call home
the only one i know.
your heart isn't beating now
your skin is cold
there goes my dreams
of us growing old.
these roses are red
but my heart is blue
and you left me now
and i miss you.

if you've felt sad for a long time,
that sadness that gnaws at you,
and sometimes throws self-loathing in there,
don't think for a single second,
that not talking about will help anything.
because it won't.
if you face it alone, it's like fighting
a whole army with nothing but a
toothpick.
and that's not very useful, isn't it?
so think-- should you deal with this alone?
or tell someone?
talking doesn't make you weak,
it's not talking that does.
so if you open up about your feelings
you'll feel a weight pull off your chest.
sure, the misery will still be there,
but at least someone knows.
at least someone will help you.
at least you will face an army
with allies.

when you're accustomed to a habit,
like, let's say smoking,
or some other self-destructive outlet,
you don't have to do it.
just because you crave it
whether it's the urge to
throw up a meal or give
yourself scars that will remind you
that you're in a rough patch right now.
you don't have to do it.
it's your life.
you are in control of it.
so if you want to get away from your old life,
and just keep on driving until you're far away
from home, you can do it.
just like you can deny the urge
to bring a blade to your wrist
or stick your fingers down your throat.
so next time you want to do it,
think.
think that you don't have to do it,
it's not mandatory.
it's your body against your mind,
and you're in control of both.