She may be ******.
And she may check my fingers-
Slam her hard metal pole down on them-
Each time we practice lacrosse.
And she may roll her eyes
At
Me.

But I don't hate her.
I feel sorry for her.
Because I think I'm the only one
Who pays attention
Through the laughter and fun
That
He touches her.

And she makes a joke out of it
So her minions snap out of their dazed state and
Chuckle a little bit.
But his crawling fingers are greedy
And her words are scarce.

All of the brain-dead minions
Laugh when she jokingly screams,
"****!"

Except me.

He got expelled this time.

He wasn't sent to
In-school suspension
Or lunch detention
Or the counselor's office.

He was expelled from
Fairfax County Public Schools.

And his friends all freaked.

They sat outside the school
Every morning
And wouldn't go in
To protest.

They signed a petition
That called him a
"Well rounded student"
And
"Well loved by the student body."

I didn't love Brian.
I hated Brian.

Brian was the kid
Who always
Made the class
Stay late.

He was the kid who
Went through the halls
Grabbing peoples butts.

He was the kid that
All the guys wanted to be
And all the girls wanted to have.

And instead of sending him off
To West Point
Where he would have to
Shave his Bieber hair and
Follow the rules for once,
The county revoked the expulsion.

And to me
It seems like
A celebrity murdered someone
And because a thousand fan letters were sent in
They got to go free.

They ask me what I see,
What I see when I'm dreaming,
What I see when I'm listening,
What I see when I'm writing,
But I don't see; I understand,

I understand how minds work,
I understand how hearts work,
I understand how my world works,
But I don't understand them.

Why can't people accept it?
Why do they need to know why?
Why do they want to know?
But they don't want to know why; they want to know what.

If I see their futures,
If I see the dead,
If I see words before me,
But I don't see; I understand.

So when they ask, what do I see in you?
I don't reply. I smile,
Because when I dream,
And I listen,
And I write,
You know what I see?
What I've always seen:
You.

These cuts I make
Are small compared to my real pain
My wounds go deeper
Than any blade can cut
And they leave bigger marks
Than the simple scars
Blood flows out of my wounds
Yet I live on
My heart still pounds its steady beat
Even as I scream
My heart cries out for help
As do my lips
I will continue to cut and cry
Until at last I die

I'll *******,
If you want.
Cause I want it
Just as bad as you do.
But I also want to hear the rustle of the sheets
When you turn over in the middle of the night.
I want to feel your hot breath on my neck.
I want the stubble on your chin to graze my cheek
As you kiss me gently on the forehead.
And when I whisper "goodnight," you don't have to reply.
Just nudge me with your knee
Or poke me with your elbow.