Having a million
Stories to tell
But lacking the
Proper words

Having a
Brilliant vision
But unable to
Paint it

Wanting nothing
More than to create
But the motivation
Is absent

But we try
And we try
Again

Anger, sadness, fear,
All blend together perfectly.
It becomes hard to bear,
The life laid out in front
of them.
  Scary what the mind,
Can give a character to when
Confronting the darkest parts of
your soul.
  You breed in flesh and blood.
A mere thought becomes
a face of a person who
Has a story to tell.
The grief from the painter,
Makes it easy to sell.

i. smile. smile like you are dying, breathing your last breath, like the irony of your pathetic life is the funniest thing in the whole **** world. smile like you're crazy, like you're on a high that doesn't end, a high that you almost wish would. smile like you love the hurt.

ii. put your hands anywhere but your face. wave them in the air, touch another person's skin, run them through your hair. throw your shoulders back, open your mouth and don't you dare wipe your eyes. don't touch the spot on your forehead, don't rub your nose; pretend you are confident in yourself, for once.

iii. walk like you aren't bleeding. walk like there is no glass beneath you, like the knife in your back is a flower blooming. walk like you are moving mountains, like you are causing earthquakes and hurricanes. walk like you are more than something.

the glass is half empty
my mind is too full
negativity is all that tempts me
with its downward pull

with broken feathers
i fall from the sky
when it's always cloudy weather
hope is sure to die

once i was lost
broken and dying
now i can be found
fearlessly flying

I'm a saint of the vapor
that's my God-given nature
I'm only here for a season
with my heart, pen, and paper