Though I am, and forever shall be imperfect,
There is someone who takes those 'faulties'
And turns them into quirks.

Though I am, and forever shall be impossible,
There is someone who takes those 'quirks'
And turns them into fun.

Though I am, and forever shall be quiet
There is someone who takes that 'fun'
And turns it into a game.

Though I am, and forever shall be easily pleased
And eagerly smiles,
There is someone out there
Who accepts it all as a *game.

Colours run
Into a clichéd rainbow,
A burst of unexpected fruit
From the depths within
Limited edition silver
To turn into even rarer gold
If you'd allow yourself
To open up about those splashes of rainbow
You can create something
The press would want to cover.

It's just another year
Of crowded corridors
And wishing we were home

It's just another year
Of rushed revising
And wishing we didn't have to

It's just another year
Of stupid stress
And wishing we were younger

It's just another year
Of growing up
And wishing everything was over already

*It's just another year.

Some tomorrows shall be filled
With glitter and sorrow
While others shall have parties and pain

Most tomorrows shall be filled
With living everything now
While thinking why, why, why?

All tomorrow shall be filled
With people and loneliness
While others shall be house guests and emptiness

*Every tomorrow shall be filled
With something, nothing, and everything.
Whether we want it or not.

Trying to grab words
And force them into something
Worth meaning
Worth making
Instead, getting this.
A not-worth-your-time thing
A sentence built on sentence
Without a reason behind it.

I will never forget the people
on the other side of the screen.
Their names stay in my head
whenever I write.
Because I always think of how
they're a person too.