You're like a pen that always
run out of ink whenever you
speak of your love to me.
You're almost about to utter it,
but just like writing a piece of paper,
only traces of the pen's tip are seen.
And in your eyes I could tell
you're hiding something inside,
Something that you would want me to know,
And something for the world to see.

But my dear, if you'd be a pen
I'm willing to be your ink,
to fill you with so much love,
and together we'd write,
and utter the magical words
that we'd shout to the world
of how it existed by just writing it down on a piece of paper of love
that existed between you and me. :) <3

I often forget
                     my friends are human.

I hold them in high regard,
like a jar of gems in the sun.

As the years circulate,
they have talked me down
from tearing my brain out

unlike my family

they're honest,
not afraid to tell me anything
even if it hurts.
Like that time I was dating that girl
and everyone called her a ****** hell-*****.
I only carry the secrets
they've asked me to in my pockets.

My family encourages me to make money.
My friends tell me to do whatever makes me content.

                       So sometimes my gratitude
                       transforms
                       these humans into deities
                       that do no wrong.

             I'm shocked
             at their careless decisions
                 disgusted
               by their occasional irrationality.
                      How dare they soil the image I've created in my brain
                      to which I then project unto them!

                                      The world disappoints me
                                      as a whole--
                                      but that's expected.

My brain & heart fissure
when my friends
don't act like these people I worship.
Until I remember the keyword
is "people."
They're human, just like me.

The age of awakening
When a boy becomes a man
No longer just listening
He questions who holds his hand
A revelation of life
His mind now his own
He will continue to search
His thoughts no longer on loan
From the world of eternal persuasion
The message he receives a ruse
God is this; Your country that
The truth has been abused
The confusion of a material world
And knowing how to live
He is confronted by a choice
Is it better to receive... or to give?
He will finally know
As the charlatans are revealed
They speak for themselves
Their motives no longer concealed
His ability to discern
And live on as a man
Will guide his future
As he discovers his plan
Fearful Mother remain strong
As you watch your bird fly away
You may well trust his wings
For you taught him to fly this way