Sitting, fishing for compliments,
the pole becomes too heavy.
Simply, blame our biggest fish,
somehow denying advice entirely.
Flirting to concede by the stream,
vaguely dreaming of obscurity.

Spiraling downward, sinking at sea.
Murky depths swallow wholly.
Descending into imagination,
strange thoughts ignite reality.

Strangers in darkness,
awakening the gloom.
Tripping over ideas, centuries old.
Images of heroes manifest.
Ciphering; the will to power,
the endurance to grow.

Their thoughts come in waves.
Nietzsche, Reznor, Sartre and Kyo.
Each a different color, one very bold.
Monochromatic, they highlight.
Lips move, but nothing is told.

Feeling cursed, desperately resuming previous functions.
Trapped in a skinner box, pressing the same button.
Dreaming of thoughts wishful to hold.
Embracing the pain, becomes something gold.

An open letter to chicks  like thee,
You wait until you're nearly sixty-three,
You'll end up talking like me,
You'll sound like the Dead Grandmas Society,
Fine-thinking women, very snippy,
Got no time for nasties and rudies,
"What's this?" "What's for tea?"
"A plate of good manners from me!!"
(And the Dead Grandmas Society!)
A fact of life, real scary,
When you're nearly sixty-three,
Words appear from the clouds, prithee,
You'll sound like the Dead Grandmas Society.......

It wasn't your first time around
And I know this has to be true
Because you always seemed like an old soul
While I stumbled around clumsily, brand new

I'm still stuck here for a reason
And although God plucked you from this earth,
I have to believe that it was your season
And that I am bound for rebirth

It seems that you were born into perfection
And though younger, much wiser than I
Your time on earth was shorter
But just as much, though truly much more, worthwhile

I wish, so much, that it had been your first time on earth
And I wish that I had more to offer you
I wish that we could have had more time
But it's clear that you accomplished everything that you came here to do

I hope that heaven is beautiful
And that one of God's angels was there to catch you when you fell
I know that you're having the time of your many lifetimes
Because, even after only 17 years, my soul knows yours too well

When I was young a monster took my hand
Lead me off to monster land
When he was done he passed me off
All the monsters turned to me and scoffed
They shouted out in unison and glee,  "this will never stop"
They threw me on thier block and chopped

They chipped away my innocents,  replacing it with anguish
They took away my joy, leaving memories tarnished
They stole the light in my eyes, now all I see is gray
It took a few of them to make me see this way

Even though I ran so very far
I couldn't get away after all
They finally left one cold winter day
But chained to the memories I still stay

They still hunt me in my dreams
The memories of what they've done still stream
They can still make me scream
So judge me if you want, my life's not what it seems

Ive been lied to, tricked and teased
Dont you see?
Ive had my trust stolen, shattered  and pawned
Cant you tell?
I bother you but i mean well,
You  take it as possessive  and controlling  im sure,
But that's  the opposite  of what im trying to do, i ensure.
I have trouble  trusting. You must know
Of course  i fret and fiddle, when you don't  tell me where you go,
Its nothing  against your charecter. I trust you holely.
But the holes in my head, they despise the act, knowingly.
Its the dark parts that whimper and whisper  about my defeat
and how your victory over me is complete,
"She could have anyone! Anything!
And youd not be worth a secound glance
Not worth a thing!"
"No she  loves me!" Id interject,
"She loves me and  i love her, from here to puket!"
"She doesnt feel  the same "the dark holes whisper
"She doesn't  think about you this way, she doesnt even ask about your day!"
I fall defeated
But not  before  a plead is headed
"Your wrong.  I love her. Shes all i have left,
I gave her everything  when i thought i had nothing left. And weather  she loves me, or you where right all along,
I promise  to wait. To sit here. To be strong

They say your eyes remain the same size
as they are the second that you were born.
It's a shame that we can't see immediately
the world for what it truly is.
It's a shame that we can't see the pain
of being different, of poverty, of hunger.
Of being gay, or being yourself.
It's a shame these eyes we live with all our lives,
can't see these things that could save us
from years of pain.
They say every cloud has a silver lining.
Funny, I still can't see it.

Oi
Look
Listen
You

Forgive my tone, I'm not trying to smart, rude or clever.
Gender shouldn't not be tender. Hopefully sooner or later it'll become like: Meh..Yeah whatever."