They say he is the man
I say he is a great and mighty tree,
he stands tall
and moves with the wind,
he wears a color for every possible emotion
so bright it contradicts
his quiet, watchful eye.
His thoughts and words are funny
and wise beyond the years of his youthful appearance,
I can't read his face
or hair that's here today but gone tomorrow,
and he is too far away
for me to search his eyes for answers.
He is beyond my reach
out of my league
there in the distance
amidst a raging sea
on a beautiful island
all his own
he stands
an enticing mystery,
a great and mighty tree.

I'd be lying if I said
I wouldn't mind looking at him more often,
since I first laid eyes on him
he has fascinated me.
He has funny clothes and earrings,
sometimes he wears a skirt,
his locks are lovely
--he shaved them off--
but he still looks cool,
like many I pass on the street
I'll never know anything more about him
other than his name,
I only discovered his inner poet
by being in the right place at the right time,
and let me tell you,
he writes like a God.

I want to hang out with you
but I don't drink or smoke
I want to laugh with you
but I'm not as funny
I want you to like me
but you're way skinnier than me
more attractive too
and oh god that hair;
funny ***** and lovely
to match your personality.
I overhear you say
no one gets the anger that fills you up
that makes you smoke
but I guess you'll never know
that same anger
has eaten my soul,
I want to know more about you
but I'm sure you eyes glaze over me,
you don't even know I'm here.

It all started when I was four
and it came with boys holding buttercups beneath girl's chins
and chasing in endless circles
and my skirt was a little too long
and my face was a little too round
to chase them too

I started sitting indoors and painting scenes
'cause I couldn't run like the other girls could
but four year old boys don't like brushes and  blue skies
they like little girls with flushed rosy cheeks

And when I was six
I couldn't sit inside anymore
it was time to go out and face the boys that called me fat
and try to be a rosy cheeked little girl too
but I just got flustered when I heard the laughter

But at least kids are honest
and I knew I was not wanted

By the time I reached nine
I kept my eyes glued to the ground
when I stood with my mother and listened
to my grandfather drop poison into her ears
and told her that her daughter was a monster
and that's why I didn't cry at his funeral

But at least he was honest
and I knew I was not wanted

Things changed when I turned eleven
self-loathing stayed the same
but the new boys were all skinny compared to me
and they did not hesitate to point it out
although quietly
and subtly
more awash with gasps from choking back revolting laughter
that got caught in the back of my throat and turned to tears
I never did cry in public

And the way I walked through the halls was a carefully crafted way
to make myself smaller
but they still plucked me out and told me
'You're so pretty'
(laced with sarcasm)
'Be my girlfriend'
(prolonged by a smirk)
I always kept my mouth shut

And at least kids are honest
at least I always knew I was not wanted

By age fifteen I was so obsessed with mirrors
that I carried one in my hand at all times
I'd tried every makeup technique I could find
and my mother was sad that my blonde curls were gone
now straight and brown to fade into the background
I never knew why this attracted boys
but for once I was glad I looked like everybody else

I was hearing 'you're so pretty' with a genuine tone
from boys who flirted for fun
but I didn't understand
and I thought I was special
and I thought I would marry every one who called me pretty
and we'd have three children and a dog

What I didn't understand was why every night ended with tears
because I was finally feeling the way all the rosy-cheeked girls did
but maybe it was because kids are honest
I preferred to know when I wasn't really wanted

When I was 16 I felt like a woman
because I'd had a history with boys who were *******
and this is how I thought womanhood should be
every night I rubbed three years of makeup from my face
and removed my push-up bra
and said goodnight to the boy that made my heart skip
and woke up the next morning knowing I would be ignored

I wished people would just be honest

At seventeen, I fell in love with a man
who called me his little girl
and made me feel like the rosy cheeked child
I always watched and envied
I fell in love with the way he threatened to leave me when I forgot something
and the way he slapped me
and I fell in love with how he taught me that it was okay for me to be *****
in every sense of the word
because I was the tiny little girl
with the skirt just short enough
and the cheeks just red enough
to be wanted

he used to range off-key
on nights he'd sing to me
          and i?
     well i'd fake a smile
and pretend to not account for
the fire running my spine
that never let me whisper to his lobes
     "you're doing fine"

i just couldn't lie
to a face like a shelter dog's

and he'd lay next to me
     sawing logs
as if he couldn't even be bothered to dream
as if all screens are unwelcome
when what you're trying to stitch is a sail

     another night time nice guy
with a needle between his teeth
faking bonds between the bed sheets

          those sheets though?
          those sheets got me

you have the most striking blue eyes,
and a smile as wide as the ocean itself.
you have freckles, freckles everywhere.
many more than i can count on one hand,
that i connect not thinking while we are lying around.
you get embarrassed, when i catch you looking at me,
and turn a shade of auburn i only wish that i could do to my hair.
and your laugh, is as contagious as the chicken pox, you had when you were nine. and all that i can know for certain,
is that you are more than i can withhold from, and that i
am hopelessly drowning in your very being.

And the applause rings loud for your self hatred,
The audience cheers for your crippling hate.

As long as you’re funny you can’t be lonely,
If you keep up the show you can deter your fate.

Ignorance in youth, fallen from grace,
12 years at a petty game young souls and a hidden face.

Your heart breaks as the world watches,
And it makes for the most gripping show when it is up on a stage.

With everyone watching how can it be real?
With everyone looking so close they don’t see the cage.

I don't take sleeping pills
I drink a glass of wine
I smack my arm and fill my veins
just to pass the time

And then I'm rolling down the hills
and then I roll a joint
a smile is painted on my face
for a life without a point

I ****** by an empty fireplace
and she was cold and ill
she cried that she would catch her death
so I burnt my heating bill

I ring up all my women
write letters to my men
invite them all into my bed
then make them leave again

I go out every Saturday
for whiskey and motel *****
sometimes scotch and virgins
who weep when I give them up

When I'm dry on rizla leaves
I'll smoke Corinthians 4-7
because I don't know of any love
to get me into heaven

******* keeps me up at night
but I get off on pressure
soon I'll be back for my ***** queen
and my life of simple pleasure