If I was supposed to
be defined by grades on
a paper, or by words in
a dictionary

I wouldn’t have
been born human.

If I was supposed to
be confined by margins
on an essay, or by stars
on a flag.

I wouldn’t have
the ability to create.

If I was supposed to
be defined by hatred
to my name or by my
disgraceful past.

I wouldn’t have
been born me.

Withered petals fall
upon their thorns' sanctity,
their sweet scents fading.

I don't want to be alone with my thoughts.
I don't want to turn off the light,
And bounce around in my head
With the idea of a future
That you're not in.
But it's there.

I used to see a string,
Long and fleshy,
Reaching through highways
Connecting us together.
But I'm feeling it being sawed
Away
By me.
Though I wonder
If you severed it long ago.

There's cold sweat dripping
Down my forehead,
Down my neck,
Down my back,
I wish it could wash away
Your kisses,
And the craving
For your fingertips.

There's a dull sleepiness
Pounding on my head,
If I'm fatigued enough,
My thinking will get fuzzy,
So you can't let yourself in
Or out.
So I can have you
Without the hurt of you.

I don't want to be alone with my thoughts.

Images of your head on my pillow
Smiling up at me,
While the morning light
Bathed your face,
And you smiled,
What I could've sworn was the most
Real
Smile I'd ever seen,
Are scratching at my eyes.

Lies are toxic.
You can't love someone,
And lie almost as often
As you draw breath,
But I wish you could.
I wish you could,
Because that would mean
You really do love me.

My thoughts are mean right now.
They want to tear at you,
The same way you tore at me.
While wanting to fall asleep with you,
And making it harder to say goodbye.

Don't leave me alone with my thoughts.

Say you love me,
Lie to me for one more night,
And say you love me.

i'm mad at myself
for not changing to who i should be.

i'm mad at myself
for trusting people
whenever they say "trust me".

i'm mad at myself
for bleeding
when people stab my back
with their deceiving knives.

i'm mad at myself
for hiding my feelings
for pushing people away
when i needed them the most.

i'm mad at myself
for not being me
i changed a lot
i don't even know what's real.

i'm mad at myself
for being heartless
i used to be so sensitive
but i just cannot feel any less.

It's the little things
(that will never be big things)
that drive me to tears.

dont write things because u want to write things. slow/ patience/ dont think/ it will come when its ready and u will know and it will be genuine and that is all that matters