Don't you dare tell me
The person I love
The person I try my best for
The person who picks me up again and again
Don't you dare tell me
That that person
Isn't good enough for you

I'm sorry

Wear me down
Use my ink
But make something
Beautiful

I once debated the scientific principle of change
On a group messenger system
I sent a broadcast of my feelings
Of the measurement and study
Of how time moves and planets position themselves
I told of the psychological affects that change has on the human mind-

And you removed yourself from the group chat.
You were the only one to understand my metaphor anyways.

We grew up
much faster
then we thought we would

When I need a friend
I'll call you Liz
When I think I can
I'll call you Liz
When you're feeling down;
I'll call you Liz
To the end from now.

O God, I don't speak often
Why is it that you hurt this boy?
He who has done nothing wrong,
Why do you make him hate the life you've given him?

I'm sorry that
When you roll your eyes at me
And belittle me
Simply for not knowing where something in the cupboard is,
My feelings get hurt.

I'm sorry that
Your hurtful words
Are only hurtful
Because my "twisted mind"
Makes them hurt,
And that your dramatic sighs and impatience
Is supposed to be how humans kindly treat eachother,
And if I tried to be more human I'd understand that.

So I'm sorry that you hurt my feelings.
I guess it's my fault.

I don't think you know
I don't think you understand
I don't think you care

Oh God, am I terrified of your perfect storm
That boy you put oh so conveniently into my life
How he slid into the seat in front of me, almost forcing me to look into his eyes that melt oh so slightly when he sees me

Why did you do that?
Why did you then nearly take him away, so many times?
Why was it so easy to earn his love, but so hard to keep as my own?
Why was there so many challenges?
Why does it still hurt once they've gone away?

Why God, why did you create such a perfect storm, that tears at my heart and pulls on my fears
Like tiny strings, my emotions a marionette who's controlled by his hands?
You've made my life God, you've set my fate, so why must it be hard?
Let his hands not hold my strings but my hands, let us dance and live and smile just as we're meant to be.
Do not test us more God, give us what we deserve.

I think, I've decided
Today is going to be a good day
No matter how much my mind tells me not to
I'll feel okay

And I believe, I've decided
Tomorrow will be a good day
And everyday after that
As long as I want to be,
I'll be okay

Silenced
And reprimanded
For every word
I say.
How many times was it today?
I guess
I won't
Speak
Again.

We sit in class,
Playing guitars, singing sweet harmonies.
There's still a month of school to go,
But we're done learning already.

Sometimes I wake up
In the middle of the night
And look for your form

If the stars communicated like we human brothers,
Would they speak poorly of each other?
If stars come in many forms, ages, and colors,
Do they think highly of one over the other?
If one star has more planetary followers than another,
Would the others whisper harshly of how this star seeks more attention than another?
If stars are all different, and yet are made the same as each other,
Do they seperate themselves from one another?
If stars are born of the same matter,
Would this matter be their God or their mother?
If stars do speak like we human brothers,
Why do they work much better than us others?

The cold mornings
Of opening my eyes and thinking of you,
Of realizing that you aren't here, and that I won't see you,
Of feeling everything turn inside me,
Of emptiness.

The long days
Of doing what has to be done,
Of connecting my everyday actions to you,
Of counting every second 'till I talk to you
Of waiting.

The warm nights
Of talking to you,
Of imagining your voice,
Of reconnecting to eachother,
Of love.

The bright dreams
Of seeing you
Of hearing you
Of touching you
Of happiness.

The cold mornings
Of opening my eyes and thinking of you,
Of realizing that you aren't here, and that I won't see you,
Of feeling everything turn inside me,
Of emptiness.