I remember the day we used to talk til midnight
You'll bet I'll fall asleep and leave you behind
But you were wrong, because we talked
until 6am
We exchanged stories
And even though we ran out of
Stories to tell
We still make our conversation go
And thats what I like about you.
You told me stories about a girl you used to like.
I cant help, but feel jealous.
I know you noticed it from my response
And you said
"Are you jealous?" I laughed and said I was not. You asked again. Then I gave up. "I shouldnt be, tho." Is what I told you.
"Yup, you shouldnt be, because i totally feel nothing for her." Is what you assured me.

But what happened now?
Why did you leave me for her?

Pen

Spells out my emotion
Helps me get through all my sorrow
Makes me realize there's still tomorrow
Its a symbol of my soul.
The strength when Im down.
And the voice when I cant speak.

Paper
Knows my story
The confident I never had
Paper is patient.
It never judges.

Pens and papers are always there, always.

Staring at the crowded hallway
Just like what I usually do everyday
Everyones going on their own way
Some are shouting, but I cant hear what they say.

Staring at the crowded hallway
Seeing some students just wanted to play
If you tell them to go to class
They'll make faces as if they don't want to stay

Staring at the crowded hallway
watching everyone walk
while some are just there to talk
Staring and hearing their footsteps
Tapping on the floor
While teachers-- students are chilling near the door.
Talking about everything like they know for sure.

Staring, observing, knowing
Every little detail
hearing every sound.
Tappings on the floor, creaking of the door, and still trying to look for more

Everyones with their friends
talking like theres no end
and Im here playing pretend
Going to cafeteria before the bell rings
While im alone staring at the crowded busy hallway
minutes passed its not crowded anymore, but one things for sure
Im still here left alone.

"Why do you write a poem?"
"Poems are so deep."
"I hate thinking deep."
"Eww, so meaningful and dark."
"Ugh, thats so sad."

Those are the words I always hear.
Whenever Im there, here, or near.
They talk about my poems behind my back
Sometimes if they could, they might throw me a rock.

Funny how they knew.
Funny how they find out.
Because that girl that I trusted
Bursted it all out.

Life, life, life.
Is this what they call life?
Is life the thing that makes you get a knife?
Im tired, arent you?

They are living in a world full of lies.
In a world they think they'll be famous.
In a world they think everyone likes them.
But, they're wrong.
This is a world that is dangerous.

They should open their eyes and start entering reality.
And entering reality starts by understanding deep poems.

Back to school
Everyones trying to look cool.
When you're just there, staring like a fool.
Sitting inside the classroom with some blurry thoughts.
Waiting for someone to talk.
But nobody did.
Is this the feeling of hell?
school is hell.
dont ask me why, because I'll say...
well,
Lunch time, eating alone.
Classes sitting at the back alone. Its like you just wanna be gone.
Walking to your class, and doesnt even know where to go.
Everyones giving you some ***** looks.
You walked and walked and walked, but you're still lost.
Not just lost in school...

But you're also, losing yourself.