Give every spoken word,
Oh, listener,
A work-space in your mind.
Even if it's misinterpreted
No harm is sprouted.
Allot double the space
If and when it's written.
Knowing my limits I realize,
I am not a machine!

Yes, I'm okay.
No I'm not.

Yes, I'm just really tired.
No, I'm tired of living.

Yes, everything is fine.
No, my world is crashing down around me.

Yes, I'll be fine
No, you'll be lucky to see clean wrists tomorrow.

Yes, I've been eating.
No, I haven't eaten, when I do, I throw it back up in disgust.

Yes, I feel confident.
No, I just wish I was perfect.

Yes, I'm fine being alone.
No, I just want somebody to love me...

Yes, I'm telling the truth*
No, I'm telling the truth.

and i guess i'm just asking,
if all the things you said to yourself, appeared on your body,
would you still be beautiful?

How pure and honest all things human
Which drift so heavenly when untouched;
They coat our eyes and dull our words
They should, forever remain unclutched
By human hands which hurt and ****,
By ropes of sadness and of glee
And studious eyes of all things mortal,
Who should learn to bear and let it be.
But what of life if not things human,
What of anything without it all,
Why shall I remain insensate
Let senseless sorrow inside me grow?
Endure the heavens and the hells
Grant your darling make you a fool,
Become accustomed to the hurt
For misery is a party, and love a funeral.