wandering aimlessly through the halls
or tears in the bathroom stall
did anyone see her fall?
no, no one at all
she's not that tall
you see the way she hides between the walls
it's not ok
what you say makes her feel like ****
you would never admit
so she stays alone
it's easier than let them know

as the wind starts calling
all the leaves are falling
they're not ready to die
so they're stopping and stalling

and the branches just sway
as the leaves try to stay
but the tree screams in pain
"WON'T YOU PLEASE GO AWAY!?"

so the leaves falsely smile
as they're raked in a pile
crumbled up into mulch
and spread over a mile

Behind tinted windows we all have battles that rage
Its only what's on the surface we
can see

There's the girl you called a **** for being pregnant
There's the boy you made fun of for crying
There's the girl you shoved in the halls
The boy you called lame
The boy you beat up for kissing another boy

Behind tinted windows we all have battle that rage
Its only what's on the surface we can see

She was *****
His mother is dying
She's already being abused at home
He has to work nights to support his family
That's his only reason to live

Behind tinted windows we all have battles that rage
Its only what's on the surface we can see

Her sweatpants and hoody provoked him
Cancer is a *****
Her father is a drunk
His father is in a wheelchair and can't work
His family told him they'd rather him dead than gay

Behind tinted windows we all have battles that rage
It's only what's deep inside we can't see

Here you go. You want to hear it, don't you?
For all the space in your handphone I
Wasted sending you
Useless messages,
For how I borrowed you too much,
Ranting on about life, apparently too much,
Because I thought I'd finally found someone who'd
Listen, I guess I thought wrong.

And I sit on my bed, and wonder,
Were you ever the guy I
Thought you were?
Probably not.
While I automatically go about my day,
I keep my phone at hand.
I am yearning. yearning for the sound of bells,
The sound that I reserved for your messages.
Bells ringing, angels.

I used to think of you as my
Little devil,
Bad boy as you were.
****, was I right.
It hurts, you know.
How I opened me out,
Lied spread-eagled on the floor.
Dug out all my secrets, my Achilles heel,
me...I trusted you.
But I was Prometheus and you were the eagle,
You dug my insides out.
Ate them.

And for trusting you,
For believing, even once
That you were the one,

I'm sorry.

emotions can overwhelm an individual until their own minds are lost

I'm sometimes asked with feigned surprise,
"You write poetry?"
"How Divine!
Give us a sample of your
favorite rhyme!"

But I know what they're thinking.
I see it in their eyes,
"What a waste of time."
"What a joke."
"Better hide the silver,
cuz these types are all broke."

Poetry doesn't pay the bills.
That part is so true.
But, don't deride my compulsion,
or my next hundred verses
will be about "you!"


~~~