When we remove the flowery, decorative adjectives,
In every love songs we listen to,
There we’ll find that every lines the world gives,
It says the same thing,
Over and over again,
Like thunder whispering upon our ears,

“Love me,”
“Why can’t it be me?”
“I love you,”
“Do you feel the same way, too?”
“Please,”
“Choose me.”

Desperate as it sounds,
The truth really may punch you through your guts,
Seeping through your veins,
Letting the blood drip,
From your broken heart,
I want you to know you don’t have to do that.

You don’t have to plead,
On your knees,
Your palms down,
No, not like that,
Put your head up and say,
“It has always been me.”

I never said goodbye.
Instead I let you fall,
further and further
until you left the hope
that was my
peripheral vision.

I could not have you.
I could not keep you.
I could not keep the
simple pleasures
that are met alongside the
empty-handed.
I was forced to leave without
a whisper in your ear
to say that
you are beautiful.

And if I had said it
what would we be?
What would you have done
had you known?

But I cannot wonder
on answers I lack.
Questions that will remain
static
but only in my past.

Do not forget me.
Do not forget the things
I never said.
The reason for the
smiles
I didn't show.

We are the past:
The distant memories,
hazy slur of another time.
Soon your face will
lose its features
somewhere in my mind,
the sound of your voice
will be
silenced.

But remember my name.
Hold on,
keep it in a drawer
by your bed,
check to see if it is still there
every night before the
sleep of dreams
void of my face and the way
we danced.

Pray,
do not forget.

L** ost out in the real world
up, down, left, right?
its all backwards
which way to go?

O ne way.
The other less traveled
or the well beaten path?
how to choose?

S igns? supposed to
follow the signs?
if i don't care,
how will i see them?

T ear down the walls,
break away.
become something else
ENTIRELY

When life as opening buds is sweet,
And golden hopes the fancy greet,
And Youth prepares his joys to meet,--
Alas! how hard it is to die!

When just is seized some valued prize,
And duties press, and tender ties
Forbid the soul from earth to rise,--
How awful then it is to die!

When, one by one, those ties are torn,
And friend from friend is snatched forlorn,
And man is left alone to mourn,--
Ah then, how easy 'tis to die!

When faith is firm, and conscience clear,
And words of peace the spirit cheer,
And visioned glories half appear,--
'Tis joy, 'tis triumph then to die.

When trembling limbs refuse their weight,
And films, slow gathering, dim the sight,
And clouds obscure the mental light,--
'Tis nature's precious boon to die.

her world was shattered long before she had the slightest chance to experience the harshness of it.

im pretty sure there are people who get better, who make it through.
and although some people recover parents divorcing and loneliness and being practically raised by themselves, some others turn into drugs and become cheaters and they should have the concern of someone. i mean, who pays attention to these forgotten souls? who will help them become who they were born to be and not a weak copy of their flawed parents?

i'm not bluffing, people do get better and i know at the moment it may seem as the hardest thing you'll ever experience.
baby i know you think you need those boys but you don't, you need the beach and fresh air, and a hot bath when things seem to heavy for your fragile shoulders to handle, you'll need friends who get you ice-cream after rough break-ups, skateboards and probably a shot or two, and fresh air when the air gets so thick your lungs finally begin to charge all those empty cigarette boxes hidden under your bed.

and you will get better, you will overcome it and you'll thank god or better yet you will thank yourself for holding onto to that ray of sunshine, for staying away from the shadows and the chaos, for keeping those dark thoughts that used to haunt you at night in a corner of your mind you no longer have the need to visit.
remember, i love you