Yes, I'm okay.
No I'm not.

Yes, I'm just really tired.
No, I'm tired of living.

Yes, everything is fine.
No, my world is crashing down around me.

Yes, I'll be fine
No, you'll be lucky to see clean wrists tomorrow.

Yes, I've been eating.
No, I haven't eaten, when I do, I throw it back up in disgust.

Yes, I feel confident.
No, I just wish I was perfect.

Yes, I'm fine being alone.
No, I just want somebody to love me...

Yes, I'm telling the truth*
No, I'm telling the truth.

A LIGHT is laughing thro' the scattered rain,
A color quickens in the meadow;
Drops are still, upon the window-pane--
They cast a silver shadow.

Stop fogging up my lenses
and stealing all my first impressions

you have lost all validity
and stolen all tranquility

let me see people
without your veil of lies

don't worry,
I can come to my own conclusions

There was an Old Man of Peru,
Who watched his wife making a stew;
But once by mistake,
In a stove she did bake,
That unfortunate Man of Peru.

Sometimes
I look at couples

with their perfect families

               holding tight to a
kaleidoscope
          of joy

and I wonder
why everything I see

is so black and white

        and I wish
someone could show me
a glimpse
                  of color that doesn't fade

I was all edges and jaded eyes
Long before
you met me, with sweet smiles
- all teeth
My laugh gets louder
I get taller
But I was only edges
Before you met me

I'm sorry but I think
You would've liked me
Before when I was innocent,
always straightforward

Than this twisted
Hardened joke I've become.

You need to go.
Before I become too dependent
You have to go.

Mixed messages of love and joy.
Translated by other sites.
You think you penned it right.
Something went wrong.
You're talking of flowers, which in a gorgeous garden grew.
Translated to flour for bread, chucked in a wordy stew.
It's all so confusing, words of blood, became squelching mud.
Oh what is this poetic person to do?
Reminder to self,must not write love poems in foreign tongue to you.
Words of love all painted blue.
Just a little sticky.
Oops.
Could be a little tricky.
You say you want to visit,
In perfect spiel you say "Innit".
The twisted words may become untangled,
Eventually.
When the translation websites all make sense or scents,
They may end up smelling sweet.
(C) LIVVI

He says there are some things he'd rather not remember,
as he tosses back another,
and I couldn't disagree more.
Because I know what it's like to forget.
I know what it's like to wake up the next day,
having to be told.
I hear two different stories,
what am I supposed to believe?
Which one is the lie?
But I am smarter than to believe his lie,
no matter how much I want to,
no matter how much easier it would be.
I know what it's like,
to be told the about worst thing that's ever happened to me
rather than experiencing it,
to imagine it over and over again,
but never remembering it,
never knowing the entire truth.
And I would rather go through it a million more times than to keep living with this doubt,
with this night that has escaped my mind.
So I'll put the cup down,
There are some things I would rather remember.