I’m sorry that I don’t always
Find the time for exercising
And sometimes my room is cluttered
I’m not a real clean person

I’m sorry that sometimes
I leave my cereal bowl
On the table
I don’t relate, half the time
To things that are important

But I don’t smoke and
I don’t drink
I don’t do drugs
I don’t party
I’m good at school,
And I live at home
I’m doing my best, Mom.

I know sometimes
I’m not perfect
I do not practice
What I preach
But neither do you
Cause no one can
Don’t mean to burst your bubble.

I can’t read minds,
You’d like me to
I wish I could
Cause then I’d know
Exactly when you’re mad at me
And then I wouldn’t need
To have these pointless
Panic Attacks
My brain thinks are so important
I should see a doctor

But I don’t smoke and
I don’t drink
I don’t do drugs
I don’t party
I do well school,
And I live at home
I’m doing my best, Mom.

I like to think
I’m unique
I try to stand outside the crowd
But you told me
I sure blend in well
I think that’s mean
Because you’re the most
Basic ***** I’ve ever known
But maybe you’re right,
I’m just like you.

But I don’t smoke and
I don’t drink
I don’t do drugs
I don’t party
I’m good at school,
And I live at home
I’m doing my best, Mom.

You’re right, Mom:
A "B" is not an "A"
I’m a hoarder
I’m not healthy
I’m pretty lazy
Quite complacent
Self-righteous
Inconsiderate

But I’m doing my best, Mom

The last of the leaves blew off today.
But don't worry, they are biodegradable.
And they realized it was their time to go.
And they really did give us quite a show
Their sacrifice was appreciated by a few
And now they are given a mass burial
Their corpses lying on the sidewalk...

And I've realized that
The beauty of fall is prettier
When shared by two.

SHHHHH

The hiss of my father signals
That I have been too loud
Again.

SHHHHHHHHH

Again, my father admits
That he values
Silence over my Presence.

"Do you know what I mean?"
I say, after explaining some issue I was facing.
"No"
He says, shutting down our communication
With no other signs
That my conversation means
Anything more to him
Than white noise.

SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Why can't I trust
That all you say is true.
I truly can't believe
That the truth could sound this good.
I hate the reservations I have
Toward those who have reservations
To see and feel my emotions.
Appointments with the person
Whose personality is not as personally oriented
As some would like it to be.
But don't assume you know me
Because assuming just creates types
Which I try to undo with these types
That I pour my soul into;
But they somehow only seem to fit perfectly
Under perfected soles of shoes.
And do not try to read between these lines
For I often do not foresee these foretelling's endings.
I perceive that under these pretenses
Which do seem to be a bit false
I may leave a conversation abruptly
Trying to preserve my reputation and not make this situation
Worse.

When a baby cries,
why do we feel potential.
Like we know that his life
is the best its ever going to be
right now.
And we ponder telling them
that life only gets worse
but we stop short,
fearing maybe then he'll always cry.

If when we are born
it is a marvelous accident,
then why do we scoff at oblivion.
Why do we strive to be more
than those who came before
and why the hell
are we concerned with disproving
heaven.
Why exactly can we find meaning
in a place that was formed out of chaos.

Why, when we see a baby laugh,
do we smile back.

Debating if their
Way of being in a relationship
Is correct; for common belief consisted
Of believing in
Love. Not simply discussing
The way it should be. If
We focus only on that, it
Seems we ask ourselves, if it even truly existed.