Late, late, late.
Late work, late period, late date.
Nothing good comes out of being late.
Late, late, late
Dread fills you stomach, tears fill your eyes,
You just can't believe you messed up by being late
Late, late, late
You want to fix it, but can't
Nothing can undo time, you're stuck being late
Late, late, late
Nothing good comes out of being late

Dear Peter,
It’s been six years Peter.
I dream of you often.
Of flying into the stars.
Of looking after the boys.
Of battling evil Captain Hook.
Of arguing with Tinkerbell even.
The exciting adventures I experienced.
Growing up has been exciting.
Growing up has been painful
Growing up is lonely Peter.
I have my own house.
I miss the family everyday.
I miss the loud laughter.
I miss mother and Father.
I miss John and Michael.
The war took them away.
I know what you’re thinking.
What is this war Wendy?
War is a terrible thing.
The loud explosions and screams.
The blood in the fields.
Soldiers marching in the streets.
Enemies killing children and families.
They're bombing all the cities.
Come and save me Peter.
Take me away to Neverland.
I’m in too much pain.
I’m lonely and scared now.
I want to get away,.
Away from war and pain.
I want to be young.
Growing up is too painful.
I wish everyday for you.
But now that I’m grown.
I worry that you’ve forgotten.
Please say you haven’t forgotten.
You keep me going Peter.
The explosions always scare me.
But then I remember you.
How brave you are Peter.
I wish I was brave.
I wish I had stayed.
I love you Peter Pan.

From your own Wendy Darling.

Typed words, shouted words
They all hurt just the same
Fake friends, an enemy in disguise
She cries at night, and hides during the day
Tries to tell, no one is listening
She grows tired, she grows sad
The insults never stop, until one day
she doesn’t go to school, but into the ground.

They say that we’re all equal, but yet there are people who can’t marry.
They say all men are equal, but we’re not all men are we?
They say that it’s a land of acceptance, but we don’t want new residents.
They say it’s a land of truth, but we get lied to daily.
They say we’re all united, but we still separate people into groups.
They say that everyone is loved but in a crisis we blame each other.
They say it's a land of opportunity, but it’s limited to only who we say so.
They say we want to grow but when we try to do so, we get shut down.
They say that we love to love but how can that be when we hate so much?
They say America is the country to live in but how can we when we’re a big contradiction?

We’re hiding in the dark.
Trying hard to survive this.
Waiting to see the light.
I can feel us breaking.
He’s close to the edge.
I’m constantly worrying about him.
Wondering what will break him.
Will it be the fans?
Will it be the paparazzi?
Will it be the lying?
Will it be the hiding?
I despise having to hide.
I want to be free.
I want to love him.
But they say I can’t.
They say that it’s wrong.
They say it’ll ruin everything.
They make us hide instead.
Lying to our loved ones.
Lying to our loyal fans.
We give them hints daily.
The tattoo’s should be enough.
The compass guiding the ship.
The arrow through the heart.
The rope holding my anchor.
The “Oops” to my “Hi”
The bird to my cage.
But apparently it’s not enough.
They still don’t see us.
Our shared stares on stage.
The wanted and needed touches.
The playful banter that disappeared.
Ones who believe gets blamed.
The tweets should be enough.
“I miss you too sweetcheeks”
“I’ll meet you poolside pumpkin”
“And don’t forget my armbands”
“Always in my heart @Harry_Styles.”
“Yours sincerely Louis.” Not enough.
I wonder what it’ll take.
Trying hard to be ourselves.
It’s hard when we’re watched.
It’s hard following their orders.
Our dreams have faded.
The flashes have dulled them.
They’re still there but barely.’
He looks up at me.
Eyes are kept wide open.
“Please don’t let me go .”
“I’m tired of feeling alone.”
“I’m tired of sleeping alone.”
My arms are wide open.
I’ll hold him close tonight
We make promises for forever.
We remember the easy times.
When we loved not hid.
We laugh at old movies.
We slept closer than ever.
He sleeps while I think.
I’ll make us okay again.
The day will come soon.
Where we can love openly.
When we won’t hide away.
When they’ll finally realize.
We’ll always love each other.
No matter what they do.
But until that day comes.
I’ll bring him the stars.
I’ll watch him from afar.
Trying to make them understand.
Because I know we’re fireproof.
And I know we can survive.
Because he makes me strong.
And he’s all I need.

Love as loud as a lion’s roar.
Love as quiet as a bird’s song.
Songs that scream,
Songs that whisper.
Love is passionate.
Love is noticeable.
Songs that bring joy,
Songs that bring tears.
No love is the same,
No song is the same.
People have different views on each.
But that’s the thing about music, about love.
Each genre is different,
But in the end it's all the same.
Both are on the earth to make us happy,
To make living worth living.

If you look in the dictionary,
Home is defined as; a house, apartment, or other shelter that is the usual residence of a person, family, or household.
I’m usually one that goes by the books but, in this case, the book is wrong
A home is much more than a place that you live.
Home is the peaceful sound of classical music blasting through the apartment we shared.
Home is the smell of earl gray tea and chocolate chip cookies early in the morning.
Home is headlights shining through our window as we sat in the living room talking quietly about anything and everything.
Home is the layer of dust that covers the windowsill of our old bedroom.
Home is an old worn down couch, faded in color but not in memory.
Home is the arguments we got in when we talked about politics.
Home is boxes of countless memories: pictures of him, the ashtray from the palace, his scarf.
Home is the love I feel for him and the love he hid from me.

If you ask my sister, she’ll tell you love doesn’t exist, it’s a waste of time.
I learned a long time ago not to listen to her, her heart was broken since she was young.
I know that love exists, I knew it existed the moment I met him
From the day, I got cold chills when he grabbed my hand as we ran away from the crime scene.
From the morning, I woke up from a night of nightmares and the smell of bacon and eggs greeted me, he never cooked, for anybody.
From the moment he first cried in front of me, he woke up from a nightmare alone and cried out my name, he never did tell me what it was about.

If you asked the public, they’ll tell you he was emotionless, a machine disguised as a person.
They didn’t see the side of him I had the pleasure of seeing.
The childish side of him when he was eating a bagel drenched with honey.
The sleepy side when the mongrels woke us up with their obnoxious barking.
The calm side of him as he composed music, notes flowing easily from his mind onto paper and then the violin.
The quiet side of him when I cleaned his wounds, ashamed of himself but too proud to say it out loud.
The scarred side of him when he learned that there was a shooting at my work.

If you ask me, I’ll tell you that normal days are the ones you want to remember.
They’re the ones that you’ll miss the most when you’re alone.
They’re the ones I remember the best.
The day we picked up a hitchhiker for the hell of it, despite the smell of oil and tobacco coming off of him.
The day we walked through the park, the only sound was the crunch of leaves under our boots as we walked the many paths through the woods, getting away from all the noise and hustle of the city.
The day we sat on the bridge the crisp morning air causing us to sit close together,  with tea and biscuits,  watching as the fog danced across the Thames river, talking about what to do with the rest of our day.
The day his brother came to visit, his stern and angry voice being overthrown by my loud laughter at his attempts to scare me away.
Didn’t he know that there isn’t anything he could say or do to make me stop loving his brother?

Loving him was the best decision I ever made.
To this day, I haven’t regretted a moment of the time we spent together.
He tried to drive me away, thinking I would run as fast as hell the first chance I got.
He tried everything he could think of, almost beheaded me with his sudden interest with medieval torture tools.
The loud thuds of god knows what all throughout the nights, waking me from dreams of the culprit.
Going missing for days on end without a single call, only to come back hungover and grumpy.

Through all of this I stayed by his side and slowly he came to realize that I wasn’t going anywhere.
Once he came to that conclusion he began to open up to me more.
Letting me see behind the mask he wore for everyone else.
And I slowly fell more and more in love with the man everyone else hated.
The taste of I love you on my tongue every day, almost slipping a couple of times.
Now I wish I let it slip into conversation.
Two years ago was when he fell.
Two years ago was when my love was ripped from me so suddenly, I couldn’t believe it.
Two years of pain and heartache.
Two years of missing my best friend, my only friend, really.
But even after two years, I still love him, I still want him here with me.

So listen to me when I tell you this.
Home is not just a place, it’s a feeling.
Love is not just a feeling, it’s a person.
People are not just people, they’re memories.
Memories are not just the big ones, they’re the normal days that seem like nothing.
Take my advice and live every day like it’s your last.
Confess your love to the one you love.
Follow your dreams, even if they seem impossible.
Because life is unpredictable and fate is a cruel thing.

Will equality ever exist?
Will people ever be free?
I can only Imagine what it’ll be like.
Judgement will be no more.
Everyone will be happy together.
No more hate or crime.
No more fear of loving.
No more fear of being who you are.
Free to walk the streets without fear of hate or death.
No more death without reason.
The day that happens, people will rejoice.
They’ll come out of hiding.
We’ll all sing in unison.
Labels pushed to the side.
For we won’t be separate, but one.
Like a big family.
Because family is not blood.
Family is who you love and will do anything to protect.
It won’t happen today.
Probably not next week either.
But am I crazy to hope?
Am I crazy to dream?
I believe it could happen.
It’ll be a slow process.
But worth the wait.
When we all become one.