It was once said that we "accept the love we think we deserve",
and I think of you and all the ways you'd shatter my nerves;
when you'd raise your voice or even a hand
every time I did something wrong - a mark on my skin you'd brand.

I was your canvas and your punches were the paintbrushes colouring me in,
painting me in explosions of blue, purple, red; completely covering my skin.
I took the poison you leaked and absorbed it entirely,
calling it love and I thought of you very highly.

I'd just wipe away my tears and apologise for making you mad,
convincing myself that I was the one who was bad -
but really you were the gunman shooting me down,
and the one pushing my head under the water hoping I'd drown.

It was once said that we "accept the love we think we deserve"
and as I sit here reflecting our "love" with reserve,
I realise I thought I was worthy of nothing but your violence,
but now I know better and the compassion I truly deserve is priceless.

I'm twenty-one, I don't really know what I'm doing.
I have direction, I'm pointed the way I want my life to go.
I know life has its twists and turns, that worries me.
The future is beautiful in black,
So that's what it typically wears.
I don't know what it holds, no one does.
I want to know in all seriousness where all the giant squids are.
Because some days that's how I feel.
I'm a big-*** squid in a very shallow pond.
Most days however, I feel like a cat
If I were an actual cat; what color would I be?
Not that it matters.
I bet I'd be a short-haired cat.
Would my cat eat squid?
How can I break my addiction to anime, caffiene, nicotine, and jumping to conclusions?
What would nine year old me do if he found out that in twelve years his best friend would be the only person he hates?
What do you, the reader, think I am?
Am I man?
Or
Am I beast?
What does she see in me?
Why does it feel like I'm always looking into a mirror after a long hot shower?
You know;
When the glass is covered with condensation,
Why am I so afraid to go back to school?
What do I even want to do?
How can I change the people around me?
How do I keep those I hold dear smiling?
I swear I'm happy; trust that I would never lie about that.
I'm just so lost.
Dr. Pepper tastes so good but it reminds me of my old poetry.
Who knows what will happen in ten years, two days, three hours, fifteen minutes and twenty-six seconds?
More over, who gives a ****?
Perhaps this is just my quarter life crisis.

And this isn’t some sad love poem about how I still love you
I don’t

But out of all of my mistakes, you’re still my favorite

Her beauty was natural with the volume turned up
She was music only I could hear
My headphones for lonely nights
A bass line that echoes my heart

Her only genre was making me smile
A one person concert every time we spoke
She needs no instruments just her lips
The only amp she needs is her soul

Cover art was the pretty dresses
Song names days we spent
The duration of an album was each season
And I wanted the summer single to never end.