You were something to do
like cracking peanuts or chewing gum
(Hands and mouths,
not hearts and minds)
But shells are messy,
and flavor is easily lost
You must sweep up
and spit out

Another broken clock
Not a metaphor

I write because my head is full of things I cannot say out loud.
I write for the way my heart bleeds when people cut into it.
I write as my heart swells with joy until I feel like the Grinch on Christmas day.
I write when I cannot think of anything but hate;
The words angrily scrawled out on paper like hot flames burning up my emotions.
I write to let everything out.
I write because writing cannot talk back;
It can't tell me I'm wrong or to change something
It is purely just me.
I write because it is the one thing that will not judge me no matter what I say.
I write because writing is all I have.

Just once,
I'd like to be normal,
Average.

Or the median,
Mode,
Or range.
I'm not picky.

Too smart for my own good,
But actually stupid.

Too clumsy to play a sport,
Yet I play anyway.

Either the pliable,
Gullible,
Easy to mess with nerd.

Or the weak link,
On the basketball team.

Is fitting in,
Just once,
Too much to ask for?

Is one real friend,
That big of a request?

Is knowing what to say,
Really that hard?

Is being pretty,
Too big a wish to grant?

Why can't I be normal,
For once in my life?

I hate every part of me
I hate going through life that way
I stay awake in the middle of the night
While everyone else is asleep
I sit in a puddle of self loathing

I have no desire to speak to anyone
No desire for that at all
I'm a prison in my own home
I don't want them and they don't want me
What a terrible life to lead

Everyone is finding fault with me
They're always so disappointed
Makes me feel worthless and stupid
Why should I try any longer
I gave up a long time ago

My blood is my refuge
If anybody knows my pain is real, it is me
It is never something they can take away
It is all that I have, the scars and the darkness
Without it, I'm lonely

Don't sit there and tell me that I'm fine
That I have it made
None of that means **** when I'm holding this blade
Your pointless words and hateful glares
The most perfect triggers

Thank you for bringing me closer to my pain
And further away from you

She's got an old soul
older than mountains,
older than the rain
It was probably there when
the rivers first ran free
Older than the earth, maybe
One of the first stars
The brightest supernova
she dove in, beautifully, on a crystal comet
straight out of the Universe

she's seemed like starlight ever since