what if there’s no light at the end of the tunnel?
   then i should call it the world and build my nest
what if you wake one day to find that God doesn’t love you?
   then we should part, like the sea, only to meet again
what if everything you’ve built up doesn’t make a home?
   then i shall find the voice that settles me
what if you’re caught not knowing the difference between blood and bone?
   then i will live, never again being afraid of the pain
what if you wanted to believe, to believe you could be happy?
   then i know that if i search, i will find it
what if you wanted to be free, free from these earthly trappings?
   then there will be no binds that define me
what if you just keep swimming upstream?
   then i will find my way back home to her
what if you’re just living a dream?
   then i'll dare to dream bigger, and raise the curve
what if her ebb knew your flow?
   then synchronicity would taste so sweet.
what if there weren’t any inches left to grow?
   then define me by my grip, not what i cannot reach
i've spent all winter waiting for this spring
   i say, gather your strength and bathe in the rain
i've kept every river from spilling out of these veins
   i say, open your floodgates all the same
i've been waiting for years for what you’ve come to bring
   i've been shedding my skin and dreading this day
this ebb and flow won’t be the same
   let the stars forever guide us
no, it won’t be the same…
   let our words stand head above silence
no, no, it can’t be the same…
   let our failures teach lessons, timeless
your ebb and my flow won’t be the same
   let us divide these lands, poetic manifest

bitten nails, broken skin
i speak volumes through a pen
the unkempt look of a tired teen
emotionally broken writing queen

i write melodies for the youth
the ones who know the ugly truth
and after all is said and done
i speak for the ones who stand alone

i write for the ones who stay in their rooms
who have inner horror of the imminent doom
of facing the decision to live or to die
i speak for the ones who silently cry

i write for the broken primadonnas
who realize all they really wanted
was a beautiful body (thin as a stick)
i write for the sweethearts, lovely, dysmorphic

i write melodies for the hated
the ignored, defeated, self-harming, tormented
the unloved darlings of this generation
oppressed by society’s views of perfection
the unwanted lovechild of sadness and hate
we feel in our hearts that we all are mistakes
i write for every last tired young soul
for i write as i speak
and i speak what i know.