If you have a moment,
Sir or Madam,
would you please hear my lament,
of the sad and woeful tale
Of Fail.

Hidden behind masks,
Enscribed with who he wished to be,
Yet,
Ever so deceptive,
Of his true identity.

Today, I am Ceasar,
Tomorrow, Shakespeare.
Yet,
These masks,
Are but a tool...

Tomorrow's play,
They will soon say,
Shall be my most glorious act,
Known to man!

With no regret,
Do not fret,
I shall don the greatest of all masks...
Myself!          

Now, you may ask,
Who is Myself?
We put our true identity on the shelves,
To show no mortal, not even ourselves!

Yet,
perhaps...
Bear with me...
If I were myself...
I would be content with myself!

No, no, no...Forgive Me!
Who am I to say this the way to be!
The only way to be merry...is to be someone who I am not!
To please others is the way to attain happiness, is it not?

Fail discarded his "Myself" mask that day,
Yet, forevermore, everyday,
He questioned who he was,
As he never truly felt to be himself.

Now, since you have stuck by me until the end of this tale,
And, with the unfortunate Fail,
I inquire of you, and, please, discard all of your masks, if you can:
Who are you, really?

The gentle breeze
played guitar
Struting the greeen strings;
The jolly rain
did ballroom dance
To welcome the glowing moon.
I lingered in the meadows
to drink eternal ecstasy
as she shook away her scarf.

We are together in pieces
made of a a poem facade
the sound of a big dog
howls into the sky
for something right
and only a kiss
so, open your eyes
aggressive, albeit alibis
are calling , I am doing just fine!
I am much too steep!
The pictures in my mind are
not long enough,
you closed your eyes-
madness, once again a lonely night
for once I'm sane and blurred again
bleeding out...
I like your sorry,
always words for me
worry, bury me.

Every time, I pass by an In-N-Out I remember that night we went to a show in Sacramento.
You, driving your van full of people and hopes and laughs and drugs,
pulled up in front of the school around 5 o'clock on a rainy January afternoon.
I hopped in, immediately overwhelmed by the love I took the back seat to myself.
In front of me was Jena, wearing her blue and purple sweater that I always will remember by.
Next to her was Fritz, dressed in his usual attire consisting of a hoody and jeans.
Next to him was Shelby, a girl I had not had the pleasure of spending time with before that night.
She didn't say much throughout the whole night nor has she since then.
Riding shotgun was Dylan, another person I had not hung out with before. He was busy mixing shisha and hash oil and I don't blame him for not saying hello.
And you, Tyler, you were driving. And as we drove with the windows down, your hair whipped around.

Almost as soon as we were on our way, I was packing spliff, courtesy of Shelby into a pipe, courtesy me.
We got it burning, just as we reached the highway and not long after that the hookah, courtesy Fritz, was slowly burning the hash-shisha concoction, courtesy Dylan.
I remember not saying much, except when we sang along to some rap song that I could not tell you the name of now.
And at one point, after the spliff had all been smoked and quick hooka session  had concluded Dylan turned around and asked me something I could not make out.
I replied back to him with a what and he again asked an non-understandable question, only this time I said "Sorry, I can't hear you, I'm really high."
Everybody in the van laughed and Tyler said she loved me and Fritz patted me on the back and Shelby turned around and smile at me.
Maybe a half hour after we left we stopped at In-N-Out for some beautiful Double-Doubles.
Once we got our food we began to understand that we had ordered not Double-Doubles but regular hamburgers. Albeit we were very put off by this, it did little to ruin our night.

I can only remember brief portions of that night.
I remember being dropped off at the curb of a punk rock show Shelby and I were attending.
I remember meeting our friends Lukas and Dakota, who are dating, inside.
I remember standing watching the bands, thinking of God knows what.
I remember walking two blocks to a parking lot the van was parked in.
I remember getting in, again overwhelmed by the love and this time, smoke.
I remember Lukas and I went outside to smoke a cigarette.
I remember a local coming up to us and asking us for a light.
I remember talking to him about something. The weather, perhaps.
I remember hugging Lukas good bye and getting in the van.
I remember falling asleep.
I remember waking up at a gas station where the tank was filled, courtesy Fritz.
I remember getting home.
I remember the laughs
and the smoke
and Lukas
and Fritz
and Tyler
and Jena
and Shelby
and Dakota
and Dylan.
I remember the love.

I need feminism
because men are more upset about people saying "all men"
than they are about the fact that 1 in 4 women will be ***** in their lifetime.

Not harassed, not catcalled,
*****
And that is not okay.

I need feminism because out of the four women
I speak to everyday
two of them have been *****
and all four of them can't walk to their car
without sticking their keys through their fingers to
feel the slightest inclination of safety.

I need feminism
because the other day in my math class
a student said "She was asking for it"
and the teacher agreed.  

I need feminism
because when my father wasn't drinking
he was telling me to be a man.

I need feminism
because the way my father taught me to treat women
was to get them drunk.
It's not his fault,
he knew no better.

I need feminism
because my father knew no better.

I remember the pain.
I remember crying my self to sleep every night for months.
I remember not being able to breathe when I thought of you.
I remember comparing everything to you.
I remember pretending I was happy.
I remember realizing nothing would ever be the same.
I remember remembering our love.
I remember figuring out I would never stop loving you.
And I still haven't.
You have the greatest power over me.
I would do anything for you.
Always have.
Always will.
You wouldn't do the same for me.
Never have.
Never will.
But I still love you
Because I remember
Who you are.
Who you were.
I remember the look on you face after our first kiss.
I remember the beating of your heart when I laid my head against your chest.
I remember the warmth of your body against mine in the cold autumn air.
I remember the taste of your lips.
I remember the sparkle of your eyes.
Most of all I remember what it felt like to love you and have you truly love me back.

What if I asked you to like me for who I am?
What if I asked you not to criticize my ever move?
Could you handle that?

And yeah I know I'm imperfect
But I'm only human, no one is perfect
You cant make me perfect

I'm just am who I am
And I'm not changing for anyone
Not anyone

Yeah sure maybe I'm not a genius
But I'm not stupid
And maybe I am kinda dorky
But that's who I am

I'm not changing
I embrace my imperfect parts
And if you look close enough at imperfect, in just the right light
You may find something beautiful and perfect in its own way

every moment
my heart
beats
with the
rhythm
of
"you
are
mine
forever"