Well not quite

I can say to anything
But there are still dreams
And sealed hope

Broken wings
Are only clipped
But...
They seem beautiful
As if they are holding onto the magic -
Mystery children know first,
And adults thirst for
At four
When the days isn't done
Or about to come

The moon is stuck in between
Holding the spell for freedom

Our wings struggle
Because we want more
Only,

Not quite sure
What that is yet

"The King's not I," declared the emperor.
And then he told them this:

Weak, ashamed and cowering
I wept for fear of time,
As I watched molasses passing
And the masses caught in line

Alas, a strong man knocked me hard
And it rattled in my head:
Was I perhaps the foolish one
shaking in their footsteps?

I tossed and turned and ever I yearned
to enlighten myself where I could

My knowledge was further
My presence much larger
My advice was the wiser
A beacon I was
for those with the urge
from way down below
to follow my road
and rise higher.

But even those were blown away
when I straightened my back that fateful day.
The crowds were small
As I stood up tall
Up
and
Up

Above them all.

And my superiority
Was finalized
As they robed me and adorned me
With a crown to fit my pedestal
As I did deserve such things.

But they do not call me king
For kings are gods above men
Me: I am the Emperor
A god above the kings.

Be you! The real, original you. In fact, we detest the fake you radiate.
We don't want perfection
Did we stutter?

And then I think of myself. No, I've no scars.
I mean, it's not really possible.
My confidence is out the roof, heck I'm good at most any sport.
And dear goodness, am I smart.
I am just too tough to crack, I am proud of all the jealousy
I am fulfilled; compared to me, you're weak.
I grow taller with her wistful stares.

Though your resentment doesn't crack me.
I sure get angry for your reasoning.
Because with out any sort of listening
you've done outcasted me. But why should I need scars?
Aren't my weaknesses enough?

And as I think of myself, I laugh. A loud enormous goose holler.

Seems I've become a bully. The kind of girl who looks down upon your intellect. I knew the answer - I knew yours was wrong, and it didn't take long before you were inferior.
Remember, I'm confident.
Because I'm at home, and I wonder, and I find my answers.
I find them for that one time, I blurted right out from my mind, the little detail - I was pleased to know, but I turned around and they'd grown cold.
Now I'm perfect, and it must be worth it, even in exhaustion.
Better be the loud one, who voices the corrections.
Better than the dumb son who never learns his lessons.

Certainly, I'm desirable: fit, thin and strong.
But the girl he wants has a larger chest
than the one he calls his own.
And I could claim as mine
any of the Brains
We could connect through intellect, but what's to happen when
I'm running hard, dropping sweat, and he can't comprehend why I'd raise my pulse to feel the heat
when none of my workouts compete with the videos found through internet.

But the thing that really breaks me is the hatred
of my confidence.
I couldn't possibly understand them.
That is the belief.
So I sit alone, set in stone - practically emotionless
and the eyes that penetrate me detest that I don't shiver
But it's hard to make a movement when my walls have grown so tall
It's my reply to all
the voices.

I've no other choices.

I'll be the "fake" one that you label
Throw me in the gutter.
The real me wants perfection.

*Did you hear me freaking stutter?

She was
                         so beautiful and understanding
   and unbelievably scarred

And I
wanted to be like her
       but I couldn't escape the dark.


And perhaps the only distinction
from the blades caressing skin
                    was that she fought back abuse
          **but mine came from within.

I see flashbacks, in my sunken cheeks.
I know how it began - I drowned in five, bottomless addictions.
The first one was a man.

Entranced within his holding gaze,
I strove to please his whims
But it echoed loud, deep inside
You're not good enough
Never good enough
You must be drowning him

So I searched, and found
my deepest flaw,
the first that I must change.
I grew hollow and raw,
and I rattled of pills
the only way to keep me thin.
But he has friends. Many more than you.
They find you dreary and unsociable
Try harder, you act pathetic.
You need to be more lovable.

I went to crashers, and to think,
I'd lick up drinks, for all the laughter.
I was ****, and wild..and they called me ****.
but I had many more admirers.
I thought I was close, so near to worth,
to stand beside his side.
But still I held too tightly,
to that spiteful word virginity.

So I threw it far.
It was so far gone, I barely remember what I did.
There were walls and halls
and bathroom stalls.
Mirrors and paint
and viewers.
And of all that we tried, I hated most that I shared you.
And that happened twice, and turned to thrice, and I knew.
I was still missing what you needed.
But I can't bother him some more.
And so, I bled instead, to self-assure
I still had more, to give.

I made certain, I wouldn't embarrass you in terms of ***.
I cut my arms, and not my thighs.
So I could still drop skirts.
And it worked, I satisfied,
you found me more alluring.
With shirt on top,
nothing below
you claimed 'this *****'
made me glow.
Oh, I was tossed, to and fro.
And my five held me in chains.
At night, my eyes would weep
I didn't recognize my pain.

Then just one time,
I wondered why.
Why did your descending lips
look like fangs and broken dreams?

And all the rage between the seams
pounded my head, I doubled bent.
Before me eyes, parading round
I saw the five, their cold, dead lies,
I gaped and sobbed, collapsed and lobbed
words of hate and eureka.

These were my drugs
I'd made my own
I hid myself, as each part died.
And I buried them inside.

Finally, only whispers.

You can't be good enough now.

Was that love?

Did you love yourself?

                ~~~


Months passed, and only one whisper left.





*Live.                That's good enough