you look at my eyes and tell me to stay
you hold me back and tie my chains
so i stay in my chair molded like clay

i stay in the house and notice your hair turning gray
and my respect for you wanes
you look at my eyes and tell me to stay

you faked a disease, the world was your pray
and the iv cords entered my veins
so i stay in my chair molded like clay

i open my world, it's a new place they say
and meet a man who sees me without my pains
you look at my eyes and tell me to stay

we made a plan to free me one day
and now i look around me at the carpet with stains
so i stay in my chair molded like clay

as the threads on my jail jumper begin to fray
and the color on my face drains
you look at my eyes and tell me to stay
so i stay in my chair molded like clay

this is just to say
every day is a new day
and although it feels
like the whole world is
collapsing around you
it is imperative
that you never
give up
hope.

don’t let someone make you feel powerless
break all your bones till you have dust
slap your hand when you reach for the sky

don’t let someone make you feel powerless
hold you prisoner in your own body
shackled to the doubts you once had that are now illustrated for all to see

don’t let someone make you feel powerless
and let them change your mind to feel truly powerless

let someone make you feel powerful
don’t let the people who restrained your tongue and bound your fists
keep you from feeling powerful again.

there are powerless people
who feed their power to those who they pick on.

looking at you is like
looking at a car crash
because although it is over
the damage has been done
and i will never unsee you

looking at you is like
looking at a wildfire
it is uncontrolled and blazing
and the longer you stare at it
the more beautifully encapsulating it becomes.

there is nothing more perfect
than the freckles on your nose,
and the way they scatter like raindrops
on your cheeks.

they remind me of a sky
with new fallen snowflakes,
each one different
in size and shape.

i know how much you hate them,
you say they're distracting,
misformed,
or decorate your face wrongly.

maliciously, you cover them,
peach-colored paint dries
the bridge of your nose cracks,
and a piece of you fades with it.

summer comes and the paint melts off,
the facade with it,
and once again the sun can paint
drops of caramel on your skin.

mondays were the worst to begin with
they always are
the feeling of uncertainty
the unknown
it haunted me
plagued my stomach
with ants lining the intestines
my organs clump together
each with a kick
but now it's worse
the unknown becomes known
and it's worse than i knew it to be
now mondays are waiting
waiting for the old to be new again
waiting for tuesday