I reread the books of my childhood
The ones about war and hope and bravery
And a gold ring
And fire.
How all that glitters is not gold
And all that is gold does not glitter.
Don't delve too deep, or beware
There may be a price
For all your treasure.
The Midas touch can change
So many things.
Roses were not meant to be gold
And a golden heart
Can't really beat at all.

I am the puzzle
that is always missing a piece
People try and attempt to solve me
If I'm lucky, I get someone for the real deal
but here's the thing,
as they're about to finish the puzzle
get a look of the actual picture

...another piece goes missing.

Headphones in
On your mark, get set, go.
Time to really look at your surroundings
and forget that you exist for just a moment...

When times were tough last year
I kept asking myself, "Why do I even exist?"
Biggest pessimist in the world.

Recently, my mind expanded
Things started to pick up
and click into place
Glimpses of happiness were hinted, implied, emphasized further out
and were approaching closer and closer for me to grab
To where I now ask myself a different question:"Why do I even exist?"

Freedom is simply a façade to the fact that we are all slaves to ourselves.
Beauty is only genuine in our material creations.
Beauty is something that we have conjured in our polluted minds,
as a stepping stone for hope of something better and concretely pleasing.
Oasis’s were created to give us peace of mind from the terrors of the rest of the world,
but while we sit and admire the soft billow of the wind,
and the gentle grace displayed by the adolescent creatures that appear out of the creek,
the tornado of destruction lives on inside each and every one of our forlorn and despair ridden souls,
creating what is the rest of a fearful society,
fretting the day they carry their misery over to the realm of the next.
Benevolence is foreign.
So disperse yourself if you wish in blissful ignorance,
worrying only about the direction of the cool breeze that playfully tassels your strands,
but dare ye turn blind to the authentic  substance this cruel cycle of life and existence,
understanding will never become native in your heart.

I feel as if I am supposed to hate myself.
It's a ****** feeling, yes I agree
I cry because I'm frustrated
which is beautiful
Progress
It shows that I'm passionate to learn how to love myself.

I fit people
I spend my time trying to fit myself into another person
Metaphorically speaking
I want so badly to please and
be with them
and
have them like me
That I tweak my own piece to
coincide exactly with
theirs
And I've always been aware of this
but I fall in love with
people too easily
and I want to know them and fit inside of them
but I fail at forgetting that
if I am meant to be with them
then they have to fit inside of me
too

if you gently take my hand
and lead me
into the ocean of your love

don’t be surprised if,
when you leave me there to drown in your piercing silence,

i destroy myself,
fighting to get back to shore.

-Jenny Jen Cat