i just realized
that i spent another entire day
subconsciously chanting to myself
that i am a *******.

i have no reason to think this.
i am a beautiful,
intelligent
redhaired spitfire
and i'm not afraid to say any of those things
people don't say those things to themselves
enough
but why
the ****
do i constantly remind myself
all day
that i am
a piece of
****
who is
telling me this
and why
do i believe it?

You're feeling kind of worn out
Things, they never turn out
Like you saw them
In your dreams
Things, they're kind of hazy
Things have gotten crazy
A convoluted mish-mash of what once was
Things are never what they once were

So on this rainy night, baby
Just hold me tight
Take me through the wind
Next to you in the storm
Things you never win
May turn out pretty nice
You've just got to hold out your hand
For things that just may happen
You can't let your delusions
Stray you from the truth

i am a product
of this
society
i pick-pocketed
my personality
from a ghastly array
of tv shows
and teenaged drama
if you would like a re-run
of last night's
late night
sitcom
i'm at your service

i am a product
of this
society
if you want some fashion advice
from me
because i dress
so well
log on to
pinterest
they'll tell you
exactly
what i would
because everything i wear
no matter how weird
or ugly
i wear because
they told me
to

i am a product
of this
society
i do not
think for me
i have an iphone
that has replaced
the normal functions
of my brain
it remembers everything
for me
i know everyone
we talk
all the time
i text
really fast
i'm so connected
i mean,
i'm plugged into
everything...

i am a product
of this society
my thighs
don't touch
and a lovely
mountain ridge
adorns
my back
a cavern
in my
belly
come explore
me
a beautiful
bony
product
of this
society

I AM A PRODUCT OF THIS SOCIETY
and you all should really stop blaming me
for being a social deviant
for being unwilling
to conform
to this new normal
sanity isn't
statistical
and this isn't
1984
meaning:
just because a billion people
do this ****
it doesn't make it
right
doesn't make it
make
sense
i will not hold onto your tail
and follow you
blindly,
society
because you don't know
where the ****
you're going
anyway
if we progress
one more step
we'll all be
dead

my mother says things about me
rudely
right in
front of me
to people that i have known
my entire life.
she tells them that i
never call
that i
don't care for her
one bit
that dad has
turned me against her
mother,
i am
five feet
away from you.
i am not
deaf.
i can hear
everything you are saying
to that poor old lady
who has no idea
why you are telling her this
she just wanted to tell you
how pretty i looked
mother
dear,
i came to give you a hug
only because
i knew that if i did
everything you just said
to that old woman
would be revealed
as a load of ****
yes mom,
for once i hugged you
and i meant it

My pillow feels my tears
My walls hear my cry.
But really they don't know why.
Why I hurt
Why I Cry
Why I scream
As I lie,
In my bed, but not alone.
See my thoughts are always with me.
And it's a constant fight.
Wish they would leave and
Not haunt me tonight.

my father always tells me
"Red, if you weren't so gosh darned picky,
you'd be having babies by now."

my father always tells me
"Red, why not just try
this one? why not just
say ok? just this
one time
go for
ice cream
with him
he likes you...
just
try
this one
time."

my father always says
"Red, honey,
you don't have to be so skittish.
not everyone leaves
some people
stay
don't let your mother
take away
everything
from you."

my father always says
"just try
just try
just try
maybe it'll be fine
you'll be alright
you can't live your life
in fear."

i always say...
"Daddy,
it is the people you love
that hurt you
and one more scar
might do
me in
daddy,
i love you
but i won't
love
mommy taught me
not to."

The morning is dry,
though is high on expectations.

The morning is light,
no sign of nights relations.

The morning lets you see,
if anything is fake.

The morning will disappear,
and fade in to the day.