I see things talking about how when people die their story has ended
And yet, how many poets wrote their life away only to be known after they passed?
How many painters brought color to everyday life, only for it to be truly seen after they're long gone?
How many writers took a pen and wrote their last breath on paper, only for it's brilliance to take life after they died?
How many more will have to suffer this same fate?
To live a life of passion in art, only to be written off?
Then, to be seen from beyond the grave
How many more will only be heard when they have no more breath to speak with?
How many more will only be understood when death takes their ability to stand?
So please, don't tell me that when death takes me, I will have lived the last word in my story.

It wasn't supposed to the sun and the clouds
Our world wasn't supposed to be a sky blue
It was supposed to be me and you

You could've been my moon
And I could have been your stars
Our world was supposed to be a midnight blue
But it's no longer me and you

Because your smile was the sun
That lit up the day
You're a boy who's so bright

But I need a man who will be the light when my world is dark
Who will see that when all the stars combined they were bigger than him

But I will need a man who will stand by me and show I'm not the only one in the sky
Someone who sees me as a masterpiece
Instead of irrelevant white, burning fires

I know that one day you'll make a girl incredibly happy
But that girl is not me

Because you are the boy that sees the light in everything
I am the girl who sees the moon, the stars, the dark, and the soul
And I need a man who can stargaze with me

Are you ever reading something you wrote and you're kinda just like
Dang! I am good! Why don't other people see this brilliance?

I can have really sarcastic conversations
I can insult people and have insults thrown right back at me
I can talk about the world, mysteries of life,  I can have deep conversation
I can even do pickup line wars
I can flirt if I have to
I can have an intelligent conversation
Or I can ask a million questions about you and answer all the ones you have for me
I can psychoanalyze someone and tell them about it
But please don't try to make small talk with me
Not only do I hate it, but I am sincerely awful at it
So I almost beg you to never ask "how is your day going?"
Unless you want the whole story with every sincere thought and the expectation that you will give me the same heartfelt answer

I like to use my voice in the silence of a page and a pen.

1,2,3,4
We're already in a war
5,6,7,8
In the world it seems there's too much hate
9,10,11,12
It looks like most people have a helve
13,14,15,16
I guess they're right when they say the world is mean
17,18,19,20
Most people are worried about what's trendy
At the same time they're walking dead, left bruised and empty
21,22,23,24
People hide behind their stage door
While thinking we're all done for
25,26,27,28
I honestly don't think that's our fate
On our generation, let me give you an update

Yes, a lot of us are ******* up, but you have to understand that a lot of us would go out of our way to make sure no one else will feel that way.
Yeah, some of us are bullying and getting in fights, but some of us are fighting for what we believe.
Some of us are so ready to give.
We have our hearts in God, our minds sharpened for a fight if need be, and our eyes on real goals.
So please stop saying we're doomed, because I don't think we are.