In a world of human wreckage,
one tree stands tall.
Distributing air for a no longer living population,
one that overstayed its welcome.
Destroyed everything they came in contact with.
Until it appeared that the tornado of life,
came plowing through.
Leaving a trail of broken dreams and sorrow,
in its place.
No one left to care,
no one left to clean up this dumb.
Destroyed.
A town destroyed.
A state destroyed.
A country destroyed.
A continent.
The world...
destroyed.
Animals left, no longer anywhere for them to survive.
Nothing.
Because...
In this world of human wreckage,
a tree loses its first leaf.

Brown hair that has been styled to the perfect quiff,
eyes browner than my favorite chocolate flavor to match.
Hands that are smooth,
yet rough from the years spent drumming.
A smile that some would call goofy,
bring me back to those days everytime it's on your face.
Voice,
not deep...
but deep enough to make my heart flutter whenever my name was said.
Arms that pulled me in close the first time we hugged...
The same arms that let go of me that day.
The deep voice that whispered, " I will always love you, "
so softly...
if that's even possible with a voice like that.
A smile that seemed to fade as the days went on,
that we didn't see each other.
The hands that cupped my face,
for one last kiss,
and the eyes that are left in my mind.
Hair that no longer tickles my neck.
when there was no space left between us.
Because something I have always regretted losing was...
you.

Do you remember begging our parents to let us be adults?
When our favorite thing to do was dress up and play make believe.
Drinking meant chocolate milk and artificial fruity drinks.
Getting wasted meant falling off your bike.
When the only pain we knew was stubbing a toe…
Or scraping our knees from the fall.
Getting high wasn’t a term where we blew smoke out of our mouths,
it was seeing who could jump or swing the highest.
When “taking one for the team” meant helping your teammates,
not making a girls night a little bit better.
When kissing was just kissing and you got cooties,
Not STDs and aids from going too far.
And the protection we wore,
was helmets on our heads to prevent concussions…
not a newborn.
When wearing makeup was fun,
and a way to express yourself…
Or wearing your favorite skirt made you feel cute,
not like a ****.
When we didn’t know what drugs were,
just knew that the creamy pink liquid made us feel better.
When boyfriends and girlfriends were described as,
“My friend thats a boy….”
“Or my girl……….. Friend.”
When sleepovers were strictly sleepovers,
not an excuse to get in bed with your best friend…
Who you recently discovered feelings for.
The only wars we knew were card games
And our worst enemies were our siblings.
Dad’s shoulders were our thrones and mum was our hero.
How about that time when we all wanted so badly to grow up?

Look around, nothing but hatred surrounds you.
A burning world consumes you into this reality.
You have to be perfect, or no one will love you.
Perfect long, curly blonde hair.
Twig thin legs, and a stomach that doesn’t exist.

Pretty looks is key, but don't wear a lot of make up.
Being smart is attractive, just don't talk too much.
The perfect guy won't notice you, without an *** or big *****.
If he likes you for you, he's just a ******* looking for nudes.
He'll lead you on so you fall, then leave after one night.

However, in the end if you don't like your outside..
you can stick in needles and tissue to change.
Next thing you know, your skin is turned into plastic.
And darling, what boy wants to date a living Barbie doll?

Now take a look around, the unnatural town.
Everyone's faces fitting like jagged puzzle pieces.
The reality now eating you alive.
But remember, no one will love you if you're not perfect.

Do i remember? Of course.
How could one forget such a thing.
All of the hopes and dreams
That soon turned into fears and nightmares.
The constant cry and reach for help,
But no one is near.
I remember it all,
Especially every “i love you”.
But you didn’t know love,
All you knew were the lies that flowed out with no filter.
The tears that streamed down my face,
Because you couldn’t love me… for me.
You couldn’t love my flaws,
Every single white line that scarred over my body.
You said you loved me. You said you loved them.
But you hated them even more than I did.
You didn’t hate them because who would feel so low
To do such a thing, but you hated them more because the were ugly.
Ugly.
Ugly.
You make me feel so ugly.
He makes me feel ugly.
Even she makes me feel ugly.
Because the ******* number on the scale,
Is more important that inner beauty.
90.
100.
120.
125.
130.
Numbers increase while meals decrease.
Jean size gets bigger and your smile fades,
Now replaced with a thin line.
A thin line.
A thin line.
A.
Thin.
Line.
That's what you expect for me to be perfect.
So thin so that you can’t even see my presence enter the room.
Instead you’ll feel the dark shadow consume you.
Because being skinny and pretty,
Is better than being healthy.
Happy.
Happy.
At this point is now a blessing,
More than a feeling.
Because your happiness made me live,
Made me feel alive.
Now i’m alone, but i don’t need to wonder why.
Being smart is pretty,
Being skinny is per-
Per-
Per-
Perfect.
Its perfect.
Do you want to make it in this world?
Make sure you’re… perfect.
Nobody cares about the 10 size girl,
With scars on her legs.
Or the 2 size girl who looks too skinny,
To be happy.
Too skinny.
Too fat.
Too happy.
Too sad.
You have to be perfect.
The perfect height.
The perfect size.
Perfect hair and perfect face.
Makeup can make you pretty,
Until you wear too much, now a ****.
Now a **** because you slept with guys,
Just because of the dark around your eyes.
Don’t let them see you cry,
Over the thickness of your thighs.
But hush little baby,
Don’t you cry.
Cause mamma promised you’re beautiful.
It’ll be alright.
Hush little baby.
Hush.

With one subtle rock of the waves,
someone is sick.
Heaving overboard because they just ate lunch.
Well, what about the girl over there?
She’s getting sick even without the rock of the waves.
No food.
No sleep.
Just sick of her own head.
She wants to feel happy,
and she wants to be okay for once.
But, I just cannot let that happen.
I play with her head until she’s begging for a breath.
Just one more chance,
one more day to feel okay.
But she got to be happy for five minutes today,
why does she need more than that?
I don’t care if it’s mean,
I like chaos.
I want her to go crazy,
with her head racing.
I want her to feel overwhelmed,
like the world around her is caving in.
I want her to feel like her head is spinning,
the constant headache from over thinking.
Thinking that she’s the reason why he left,
that she’s the reason he doesn’t want her anymore.
She needs to feel like she’s the mistake,
the one causing everything to go wrong.
She needs to feel my pain.
She needs to feel what I felt once.
Why should I let her be sane?
It’s too much fun to see her in the corner of the room,
with glossy eyes.
You can tell she wants to cry.
She wants it all to go way,
to end.
So as those waves rock, and people are getting sick…
So will she.
Not sick from the movement,
but sick from herself.

If this is to end in fire, then we should all burn together.
- ed sheeran

Sometimes I wonder if
our love is real. If this
were to be real, I shouldn’t have to worry. Is
there more to
this bittersweet feeling? It’s bound to end,
isn’t it? The thoughts in
my head haunt me, light my body on fire,
and watch me suffer. Then
wonders why I cry. We
should have seen this coming, should-
n’t we? All
the pain we caused each other? We’re better to just burn
away, then to be together.