Have you ever seen a black widow spider,
On one of the many photography expeditions you took without me?
Did you notice its black shining sleek beauty while being an outsider,
And how similar someone like you and a spider could be?

Beautiful, sleek, perfect when you look at it from afar,
But if you try to get involved the venom it injects will make you regret it.
Unlike a spider, I was not warned as to how dangerous you are,
And right now I am feeling the venom from where I have been bit.

But unlike you a spider knows what common courtesy should be,
And a spider will be polite until it is provoked.
You on the other hand feel it is ok to take all of me for free,
The way you use me makes me feel like I’m being choked.

Why do you think it is ok to not speak to me at all,
And then ask me to bring you something I shouldn’t?
Why do you think 2:30 am is a good time for a phone call,
As if you knew I would answer even though I shouldn’t.

God I can only ******* imagine what you would have asked for,
If I wasn’t asleep at 2:30 am like a normal person.
And knowing myself I’d be more than willing to give it to straight from my core,
Injecting more venom into my system and making my condition worsen.

Do you have any ******* idea how much you have hurt me?
How much it killed me to see you enjoying summer while I was alone?
Every ******* picture those little ******* posted I got to see,
And I felt like our friendship was being overthrown.

Images of watching you play your guitar like you were born with it in your hands,
Flashes of getting drunk in your basement and in my room with you are flying by.
Seeing that concert together is running in my mind and discussing our favorite bands,
The times you got too close to me are in my head but that’s something you’d probably deny.

I feel like I am fading right along with my own memories,
Being replaced by prettier people and left to be considered as a convenience.
You are still taking from me to the point where I’m about to be empty,
Soon enough you’ll take the memories and life will be meaningless.

To my beloved mother,
The one who I inherited almost all of my looks from,
The one who raised me to be stronger than every other,
Why is it that you can’t comprehend that I am not dumb?

Why do you feel the need to tell me when I am wrong,
Even though I know you’ll never believe I am right?
Your lectures are spoken to ears that think you’ve went on for too long,
Why is it that I can do everything you ask yet still get into a fight?

I am aware of the long terrible hours you work,
And I am aware of how tough that is on you, I hope you know that.
But that gives you no right to knock me down and go berserk,
And me standing up for myself does not make me a spoiled brat.

Have you even tried to fit into my size eleven shoes?
Ever even tried to picture how my day can be?
No you would rather yell and make sure I lose.
Maybe one day you take the time to look and see.

You work eight hours at a grocery store,
And I’m at school eight hours stressing over which class is next.
Don’t forget, your strong daughter also has a job she loves to the core,
But that doesn’t mean I can never be perplexed.

You add eight hours of school and another two or three of work,
And almost ten hours of responsibility a day makes me awfully tired.
So when I come home and get yelled at is quite an irk,
Yelling about my chores leaves me pretty uninspired.

Ah America, the land of the free,
Where you are supposed to be living happy.
But not all Americans seem to be able to see,
Why some of us feel so **** ******.

“Oh, you’ll get through this don’t worry!”, they say.
“Something affecting your feelings can’t be a disease.” they preach.
These sayings are pretty stupid and cliche,
And it just shows that understanding depression is far out of their reach.

I have no sympathy for the people who say these things to me,
Because they don’t have a ******* clue how depression destroys you.
How would you like to feel completely worthless or to feel like an amputee?
This is way more than simply feeling a little blue.

I feel like the part of my brain that should tell me to be happy is missing,
And it was replaced by a voice telling me that slitting my wrists is the next best thing.
Now matter how hard I fight it that voice will be in the back of my head just hissing,
Telling me the blood dripping down my arm is worth the sting.

Depression is like having an obnoxious mean friend,
Who you try to hide from everyone until it is too obvious he’s here.
No matter how hard you try to shake him you end up making amends,
And instead of letting people try to help you just try to disappear.

Depression takes you away from everyone who loves you,
It isolates you and traps you in the corner.
And slowly every hateful thing it whispers to you becomes true,
The you that was there before is now gone and you mourn her.

You will never be the same person as you were before you met depression,
You will be a living person trapped in a dead girl’s shell.
You will feel tired and angry from all of that repression,
And living this way alone feels an awful lot like hell.

How long will it take for people to realize this isn’t “just a phase”?
How many have to hang from their closet for people to understand?
Depression lasts forever it’s not a few ******* days,
And suicides are caused by depression’s twisted evil hands.

A person who is murdered by depression is not a coward,
And they sure as hell are not selfish that’s for sure.
They felt completely abused and overpowered,
And to them their struggle had no other cure.

I think it is time for the world to get a couple tips,
Depression is real and it is alive.
You cannot tell someone to “get a grip”,
They don’t need to be reprimanded they need to thrive.

If you haven’t noticed this town is a very small place,
And it makes me wonder about the type of people that live here.
Now there is diversity of origin with every kind of race,
But there’s a type of race that is starting to disappear.

That race is an economic one called the working class,
It is heavily getting replaced by what we normal folk call the wealthy.
These people drive their shiny Mercedes like their whole life was a free pass,
And they flaunt their money around to the point where it’s unhealthy.

They buy their cookie cutter mansions up like they’re buying Taco Bell,
Spending a million dollars on a house for four surely isn’t ridiculous.
And maybe it wouldn’t be if the other 99% of America could do it as well,
But we have a lack of money that makes us a bit more meticulous.

We aren’t able to buy a new house or a new car just because we want to,
And we sure as hell can’t afford a Porsche or a Corvette.
Unlike you we have our sad little low paying jobs to do,
Yes, I’m totally sure sitting in your office chair really makes you break a sweat.

But the worst part of it all is these rich people will have a daughter or a son!
And they’re gonna grow up to be just like their mother and father.
It’ll be like watching a reality tv show rerun,
They’ll be wasting the same money and being the same bother.

My children will be working just to buy enough gas for their car,
While these kids will ask mommy or daddy for a new watch or phone.
But I guarantee you the working class kids will go twice as far,
As the little rich kids who will grow up always expecting a loan.

They say having good friends is like winning the lottery,
Well who gave me a fake winning ticket?
Every friend that comes and goes is just a mockery,
Of my undying kindness even for those who don’t return it.

Is it dumb to believe in the phrase “Best friends forever”,
Or am I just stuck in my 2002 kindergarten playground?
People seem to drop me like a bird sheds a feather,
And I am unwillingly isolated by the time I am found.

I was not aware that friends were like snacks in a vending machine,
Picked and chosen when it is most convenient for you.
I guess I am the little pack of crackers stuck in between,
The chips and the Mountain Dew.

God forbid that machine runs out chips and drinks,
Because then you may have to settle for my boring ******* ***.
And maybe for once it actually won’t be a jinx,
But it’s too late I am no longer a convenience so I shall pass.

You know, there are so many definitions of the word love out there. You’re mine, I’m theirs, stuff like that is pretty common. I don’t consider that the love I feel right now. Considering you know, I don’t exactly have someone that I can call “mine”. Even if I was technically in a relationship, I don’t think I’d ever use that term. I don’t think love should be this possessive thing. The way that I feel when I’m in love is sort of an off the ground, light and airy sensation. I don’t want someone to be keeping my feet on the Earth telling me that I’m “theirs” when I want to be in the air. I want the person I love to take my hand and just fly with me so we can both be free and airy together. Hell, I’m not even that worried if that person is going to actually hold my hand or not or be with me that way in general. Just being around them is enough to get me floating. The love I feel isn’t one of those you see in a romance book. I’m not getting swept off of my feet by a perfect prince charming. In fact, there really isn’t anything romantic about this at all. It isn’t a sudden spark of chemistry that got me to feel this way, its years of friendship and little things done for each other. And maybe because he is so NOT a prince charming, that I savor those little moments of kindness I get from him. No, he’s not totally rude and mean but he is one of those guys that you couldn’t get to tell you how he felt if you shanked him. Some of my favorite memories include him. Like when we got drunk off of whiskey in his basement at his sister’s party and he danced with me. He’s such a bad dancer… Then we crashed on chairs and sofas around two in the morning and it was the first time I slept over his house and I just felt so happy. But my favorite time of all was when he asked me out of the blue if I wanted to go to a concert with him to see a local band. Not only was the band incredible, but that whole night was. He was flirting with me the entire time and being touchy-feely. I’m pretty sure he even gave me that “I want to kiss you" stare but I didn’t realize that until it was too late. Afterwards he wouldn’t even let me go home, he wanted me to sleep over. We were gonna sleep in the same bed, the other two friends that went got to sleep on the floor. It was me and him. I felt his hand on my thigh, and I then gave in. God it was the greatest feeling to feel loved back. I’m not sure if he really loves me that way. I don’t need him to. I just wanna keep feeling this warm fuzzy feeling for a long time.

It’s 1:30 in the morning,
And you’re saying sorry.
All I am doing is discussing my life with you,
And you’re saying sorry.

We read The Fault In Our Stars,
And you’re saying sorry.
Because Gus lasted much longer than my daddy,
And you’re saying sorry.

I vent about being used as usual,
And you’re saying sorry.
I don’t want to love that guy anymore,
And you’re saying sorry.

I don’t want you to be sorry,
But you’re saying sorry.
It’s not your fault life’s this way for me,
But you’re saying sorry.

I just want you to be happy with who you are,
And you’re saying sorry.
I want to love you like you deserve,
And you’re saying sorry.