Sleeping beauty, I'm a mess.
Asleep by my side.
You just shut your eyes.
Dreaming about a life, which hopefully includes mine.
Peaceful and alive, you feed my pride.
I wish you were mine; though I know it's a wish never to be granted,
I'll keep in mind, the pain that your "past" did.
The look on your face as you continue sleeping has me worried.
Why does it seem like you're hurting,
in a place where you shouldn't feel deserted?
You pull up close to me, yet you feel so distant.
What do I gotta do to make you feel existent?
Sleeping Beauty, you wreck me.
Asleep by my side.
You just opened your eyes.

What should you do when even smiling becomes overrated; when feelings are history, and emotions are mysteries?

What should you do when you've loved, and lost, but the pain created by loss, over mastered the love you've received?

What should you do when all you wanna be is yourself, but society declares that girls should look like Barbies and guys should be like Superman?

What should you do when you want to have a face-to-face conversation, but your inner-circle is too busy scrolling down the outer-circle's timeline.?

What should you do when all you want is unity, but racism is ascending faster than a race car on its last lap?

What should you do when you're scared of what tomorrow holds, because of the results and actions of our generation being obsessed with saying "YOLO"?

What should you do when you have everything you've ever wanted, except happiness?

What should you do when you want to live, but all that there's left to do is survive?

Who needs dreams,
when you have your thoughts?
Who needs a good image,
when you can just take shots?
Not just the tequila, or alcohol in general
but also drugs, or bullets..
that could lead to your funeral.

There is a child walking on the street,
by her own, begging for something to eat.
Hundreds are passing by daily,
none paying attention to her, all ignoring little Bailey.

After a long day of begging and pleading,
she lays down in her cardboard mansion, which is not even near pleasing.
Hours go by as she thinks about her life,
no family, no friends, not even some place she could rent.

What does it mean To be loved?
No parents, no siblings; is there really someone above?
She wonders why she had been the one left alone,
seven years, with no one to hold.

Love..does it exist?
Maybe in a husband, a pet, or a kid.
''But who would accept me like this?''
No foster family, no orphanage; I'm just a Misfit.

Some people have an IT that they must face
A beast ahead or demon on the shoulder
For them the IT is writ in upper case.

I fear that many men hide every trace
Of tears and self in masks appearing bolder
Some people have an IT that they must face

And those who gaze transfixed at the sheer pace
Of life's descent to dust, to rust and moulder,
For them the IT is writ in upper case.

My beauty meets her monsters every place.
And though I'm often there to hug and hold her
My darling has an IT that she must face

She battles them with discipline and grace
And lives by dint of detail, file and folder
Each labelled by an IT in upper case.

Though time will always catch us in the chase
It's fear of living true that turns us colder
Some people have an IT that they must face
For them the IT is writ in upper case.