Would you notice,
if the sky turned black?
Would you notice,
If all the trees cracked?

Would you notice,
If the rivers ran dry?
Would you notice,
If the lakes began to cry?

Would you notice,
if the sun was gone?
Would you notice,
if the days ran too long?

Would you notice,
if I left this place?
Would you notice,
if you stopped seeing my face?

When I look at you,
I see beauty,
and grace.

What do you see when you look at me?

Sometimes I feel,
like I could walk off the edge of the world
and no one would notice.

This is a story about two boys
The taller one has a gun tucked into his waistband
And thinks the bullets are meant for him
The older one has a record player in his head
He sings along to the same five songs
They know each other
Down to the color of blood
And the sound of bones breaking
But they are strangers
The one with the gun keeps forgetting the words
And the boy with the music Won't let him shoot

the feeling of powerlessness
that turns good men
cruel

-you know the oldest lie in history? is that power can be innocent

i wont glorify or romanticize heartbreak
for me it was a kind of death
and i was forced to keep on living

I'm sorry about the blood in your mouth
i wish it was mine

if you want to learn
what someone fears losing,
watch what they photograph.
- that explains why he never took pictures of me

I wanted to be born as a star
but someone had a different idea.

That's how I ended up as a street lamp. I die too soon and flicker too much. But yesterday I saw a moth trying to kiss me. It almost burned her.
I have heard stars do not get this luxury.

"i was written by a man" this "i was written by a woman" that.
i was written by myself because no one had the energy to pick up a pen and do it for me. i wrote myself with scavenged ink and put myself together bit by bit with agonizing scrutiny because no one wanted to write the details