I hate my skinny frame
my bony hips and spaghetti appendages
I envy the built lads with guns for arms
those guys that can wow a girl without any charm
I heard that girls like being carried to bed
they'd more likely be able to carry me instead
and maybe that's the reason I never get any head
but jokes aside, this is a problem
men, women, boys and girls
we're all fixated on an image the media has us fed
some of us feel worthless because of our bodies
forgetting our positive oddities
forgetting the perks we have like a beautiful smile
or eyes that given the attention
hold something you haven't seen in a while
a lot of us haven't felt love from ourselves in years
it could bring me to tears
all because when we look ourselves in the mirror
we see imperfection
but let me ask you this; what is perfection?

Is it a man so jacked up on steroids he can't get an *******?
is it a girl so skinny they call her the queen of size zero?
when zero is the number of healthy teeth left in her mouth
from forcing herself to be sick after every meal?
so what is the deal
with this perfection ****?
I've had enough of it, having to listen to the girl I love
saying "oh I'm so fat" well **** me, I've had enough of that
call me unsympathetic call me a ****
I'm done hating myself, I'm learning to bounce back
you are who you are, a poet once told me to be proud of that
and that I am finally, once and for all
I might be skinny and look weak but I'll stand tall
I'm a clever guy, or so I'm told
I've got charm so I'll learn to use it
keep writing the poetry, to me it's sweet music
keep on telling myself
"I can do this, I can do this, I can do this"



**and so can you

My mind is wasted
well, out of sync
I can't keep up with the thoughts
that would be brought over seas
of consciousness, like weeds of mind
rooted in so deep , they bury themselves
in to the back of my eyes
and I'm always concerned about
running out of time
one thing after another
like some premature adolescent
I scream "why, **** why?"
I'm confident but I'm tired all the time
if you feel the same then don't be shy
I can't give you the answers
I can't sell you the time
but I can suggest a solution;
don't give up, don't die

I've got these hands
bony, scarred, dried and cracked
and they can do great things
or so I'm told
but have you ever tried to
pick yourself up?
I mean really pick yourself up?
when you fall flat on your face
when you're **** out of luck
that requires a strength
I sadly do not possess
couldn't drag myself out of the mud
if I waited for it to freeze over
before I fell in

I've got these eyes
light brown, they're more of an amber
especially in bright light
gifted with sight and minor impairment
or so I'm told
I myself don't care to look at them
I can get lost in them though
for all the wrong reasons
but have you ever tried to
actually see yourself?
I mean really see yourself,
not the image manifested
instead, what you truly are?
I think I have but then again
I have a needed aptitude for deceit

I've got this heart
this heart that that beats
fast when I'm excited,
fast when I'm scared,
faster still when in love
and it's a big lump of muscle
or so I'm told
I guess it must be
I won't argue with that
it's heavy inside, that's a fact
but have you ever tried to
wear it on your sleeve?
the phrase is an idiom
I'll explain what it means;
to be overly sensitive or easily hurt
and have no control over emotions
or show them too readily for people to see
despite my deceit, my heart it still bleeds
that's the only reason to be careful
when you shake my hand

I've got this secret
this secret that eats its way through me
secrets are bad and we shouldn't keep them
yet everyone has secrets and we need them
or so I'm told
and I don't even know what mine is yet
though I suspect that it's that I'm sad
sad when I shouldn't be
lonely when I needn't be
but have you ever tried
to tell a secret and get it off your chest?
feel it come up from inside, make its way through you
and as it's about to come out just suddenly stop
as a gassy lump in your throat so you choke
as you swallow it down?
I have and I can tell you
it's not the taste that gets you
it's the texture

Life has got me feeling down
a shade of sadness paints the halls
my worries got me feeling ****
I'm too young to feel this way
I gave up drugs but I want a hit
my soul turns old and silver grey
money problems at twenty years
my mother's sickness
has my family in tears
I hate this life I'll admit it
didn't want to offend
the people closest to me in my life
by saying it's so

Now I don't care to be honest
I have to be true
a life of happiness
isn't possible with my state of mind
and I've been thinking this
for a very long time
I'm miserable and sometimes
I want to die
but I'm a coward
and cowards seldom die
we run and we ***** and we moan
and we cry
sobbing at the fact it's ourselves we loathe
I want to drown myself
in a sea of liquor no less
forgetting my worries
this life and it's stress