The lines that are etched in my skin
don't signify that I'm not right, not okay.
To me, they're a sign that I'm here and alive,
that I lived through a whole new day.

I made a place for myself
in my skin, not some medicine-cabinet shelf.
Yet, you still try to offer me help.

I get it. You're disappointed.
I'm fine. I get your point...
but you still tell me to change my ways.

If I'm suffering madness,
please don't mistake it as sadness,
I've got it all under control.

I'm remarkably glad
for the moments I've had,
I'd never think to trade them away.

So don't look at my skin
and the way that it bruises,
or the cracks that form canyons within.

Please, just look at my soul.
It's under control.
I wear these wounds proudly, I'd say.

if i had a gun i would have popped more heads than hilter could,
you may say im rude but at least i still believe in something good.
every morning i wake up some prefect making noise banging my door
its like he doesnt have a place in this world,
but if he knew he should have committed suicide the moment he woke up and looked into the mirror and it back at him.

so today i took my pen and in this poem i write more than pain
and i wil drop my pride and shout i aint the great,
bang in your face we shall all be dead one day.
i guess its true i aint scared any more thats why im writing again
to prove whats wrong right ,
and if you think i am crazy then yes i am and guess what
you aint so in a crazy world you are a fool.

if im gonna die from telling the truth you gonna die from listening to it,
i bet you dont even know why you are here sir.
im here to become a mouth piece for those people like your father oppress,
im gonna be a lawyer and im gonna stop it all
corruption starts here at high school when people like you are tolerated
not in this generation and not on my watch, you going down.

That I'm severely damaged and I want you to help,
Without coming across like I need you.

if the moon fell down tonight,
i swear to you my dear,
i'd spend my last few minutes
dreaming you were here.
we'd lie in bed together,
your hand upon my cheek
as the world goes cold, oxygen fades
and our bodies; they grow weak.
we'd hold each other tightly,
drifting into space.
if the moon fell down tonight, i vow
to spend the last few minutes
staring at your face.

you're the only light,
and the only warmth,
i've ever needed anyway.
if the moon fell down tonight, my love
i pray you'd come, and that you'd stay.
but if the moon stayed tonight,
up there in that sky,
i'd do what i do everynight;
i'd lay in bed and cry.

Why can't we have meaningless talk
the way people have meaningless ***-
you would crash over me into a
river of un-scathing emptiness
and leave marks on my skin-
stories that this was where
you started to tear at
the seams
effortlessly
like the silkness
of your sorrows on my floor.

You would become a sultry verse
in this anthology of every day
lodged between the rush and
vacancy of broken hearts
and anguished limbs.

You would radiate the heat
of your angry, angry heart onto
the cold deadness of mine,
and we could burn and melt
all at the same time.

Meaninglessly you would leave
me out of breath,
gather your clothes
and go home.