Artists.
Praised by lovers
Adored by dreamers
But also victims of the ridicule of over-achievers

I've dipped my toe in both waters
I've seen the world learn how to swim
While artists took a dive in the ocean
I've heard the world practice its symphonies for ages
While artists created their own

For the artist doesn't aim for perfection
It aims for satisfaction

Do not be fooled by the artist who fills galleries with red roses
For those thorns have endlessly scorched the walls of his soul
Do not be fooled by the artist who's arms stretch to the sky
For those muscles have been the victim of life's cruel judgement
Do not be fooled by an artist's kind words
For they have learned how to make lies sound like love

Do not be fooled by an artist's fears
For they've discovered the ocean
In hopes of loosing the sea

dating a writer
is like guessing the weather.
you think you know what you'll get,
but you never do.

you never know
because

she'll create a hero
from your weaknesses

and she'll write a great character,
from every last flaw.

she'll create a thousand plots  
from your worst nightmares.

she'll take every last thing you hate
and create something you'll love.

she'll turn your anger
into confessions of adoration,

and she'll make you,
everything you're not.

but worst of all,
she'll leave you wondering-
is it you she's in love with,
or things she's created from you?

but here's the beauty of it:

if you date a writer,
you'll never die.

I think that the reason so many of us won't love is because
We know it won't be those morning walks hand in hand
We know it won't be warm hugs by the couch every night
That it won't be kisses with lips swollen with love
Or passion that shines as bright as a thousand stars

We won't dare to feel because it's not what we expected
It's because it'd be everything we ever feared.
Putting ourselves vulnerable for someone else
Stripping ourselves with what we think is confidence
But in reality is pride.

I challenge you, I dare you to feel
Feel the pain, The anger
The sorrow, The joy but mostly
Feel the love
Open your hands to the sky and let the world cut you
For those scars will heal
And you will love again
You will hope again
And in time, you will heal again

I've gotten a lot better now
I am much better now
I'm not at my best but that's ok
Because I like where I am right now
I like it because I'm going towards somewhere
More importantly, it's at my own rythm

It's been tough, however
I've scraped the halls and dark alleys of my life
I've learned the "nasty" ways of survival
I learned that "You don't climb the social ladder without picking up bad habits"

I am well.
I like where I am
And that's good

There isn't that much ''new'' left. Poems, songs, paintings, sonnets etc. It's all the same idea. They're all about the one that got away or the hurricane of emotions left behind. Or maybe that childhood kiss that was sweeter than the strawberry jam mom would pack for lunch. Maybe it's about those days you'd run out in the storm in rainboots, waiting to feel those droplets on our face because there was nothing that a little rain couldn't wash away...right? Those tormented nights when the big bad wolf known as life, reminded you that not everyone thought you were a "superstar".
And in those moments, mom or dad, aunt or uncle would say "Life happens, honey". Those words never felt like comfort. They were more of a reminder that they had already experienced it and more was coming. Which brings me back to: there isn't that much new left. Although the canvas might be different or the medium could be thicker, there is still the same picture.

Everything has already been done before. Someone already felt it.

you know, I thought I'd feel something
anything really
anger, sadness, rage...
but I just feel numb
i don't think it's because of you or what you've done
i think it's because i've felt so much
you made me go through too much

just like a water bottle
when you fill it up with too many things
it starts to empty itself
and that's where i am

emptying myself
from all the tears i've cried
from all the nights of fears
where the monsters weren't under my bed
but they were tucking me in
from all the days i'd curse the moment i met you
from all the moments you ever made me feel like i wasn't special

I wasn't unique
That I wouldn't find someone that would wake up by my side
That I would spend the rest of my days by myself if I didn't try to change

you know, I used to be scared of that
but now, it's all I want
I want to spend some time alone
some time to think,
to pick up the pieces
that you effortlessly smashed on the ground

so here i am.
planting my inner garden
and decorating my own soul

The boy went by Samuel and the girl by Beth
He planned for his future while she awaited her death
Never a likely couple, they put romance to the test
She had cuts on her wrists and a void in her heart
Still, he thought she was gods finest work of art
There were years of love, of picnics and fun
Never would you guess their romance would be done
But he thought he could fix her, rid her of her vice
When he couldn't, he felt his love couldn't suffice
Beth's cuts were deep and Sam's patience, thin,
One more slice and his temper would give in,
She tried to stop but still resisted the change,
She found his love exceedingly strange
It couldn't be taken, and alas she cut
He began stammering in rage, screaming, "WHAT"
He ran to the shed, knowing what he'd find there
And hoisted the axe, high into the air
Sam ran her down and looked her in the eye
And brought the axe down, screaming,
"If you want to die, die"