If clarity was a person, you would be it's embodiment.

Wet hair dripping
Pop Punk playing
Homework pushed aside
I'm too busy texting you
***** laundry on the floor
I'm hiding under the covers
Sleepy eyes, restless legs
My parents start yelling
I grow to ignore the fights
I'm used to being put down
Nothing I do is good enough anyway
I drift off to sleep
But not without wasting hours
Over thinking and wishing
That you'd hold my hand through the pain
And that I could feel peace again
Because there's only peace in your arms

Too tall
Too short
Too fat
Too skinny
Too shy
Too loud
Too wild
Too scared
Too lazy
Too irresponsible
Too 'teenager'
Too ugly
Too dumb
Too clueless
Too poor
Too selfish
Too ignorant
Too opinionated
Too boring
Too serious
Too emotional
Too imperfect?
Too bad.

I was born with photographic memory

But now your face is starting to go blurry

Something about you confounded me

There's no poetry in my soul.
Just a list of lies I've told.

Maybe one day my words will form
Into glorious poems all dedicated to you
With eloquent similes and subtle allusions
To your favorite writers back in the day
But until then
I hope you can read these frail passages
Of muddled emotions I call poems
And know its not enough but it's all I've got
For I'm no writer, but for you I will write

I have five fingers
You have five fingers, Let's make
Ten together please