Believer of Dreams,
Determined Worker, Care-Giver,
Taxi-Rider and Street Skater;
Dusty, *****, noisy,
City that Never Sleeps

They tell me you are irritable, and I believe them, for the crowded streets and distracted people can get out of hand.
They tell me you are rude, and I answer: Yes, you are rude, and never give a care for anyone but yourself, yet I’d never have it any other way.
They tell me you are ignorant, and my reply is: Of course you are, for if you were not, why would things slip out of your sight, whether it is the homeless, starving people you care for, or for the attacks threatened most every day of our existence?

They see only irritability, and they fail to see the shining lights that never go off even in the darkest of nights, only shutting down for the unfortunate black-out that creeps up on you.
To the ones who say you’re rude, I reply: this is the place where the possibilities are endless; where those seeking shelter may rest and get on their feet, and those who wish to be entertained will be entertained.
Those who call out your ignorance have yet to see everything you offer, from jobs to entertainment to the feeling of hope one may get looking upon your gleaming towers, the home to much of the population.

Laughing the dusty, *****, noisy laughter of Youth. Proud to be a Believer of Dreams, Determined Worker, Care-Giver, Taxi-Rider and Street Skater.

I hate everything about life,
the only reason I'm alive
is because I don't believe in suicide.
If I died tomorrow,
I'd only see it as this curse
of being alive was finally lifted.

I'd be sad if you died.

You shouldn't,
because life is a burden,
when the burden is lifted,
we can be peaceful in the realm of the dead,
no longer following society's rules
and having to worry about others.

Doesn't that seem so lonely to you?

No, because I've always been lonely,
I don't trust anyone because anyone I've trusted
eventually turned their backs on me,
not caring about how I feel about the situation but
about what they could get out of exploiting
the kind of person I am.

For what it's worth, you can trust me.

I'd rather not,
Because one day you're going to find someone
and forget all about me, it's happened before
and history repeats itself.*

History may repeat itself but I don't plan on being history to you.

I met a girl with fire on her head and in her heart.
Her arms were lined with scars, curved perfectly with the Reaper's Scythe.
She was beautiful, but she didn't know it.

And isn't that the story?
A sad, beautiful little thing saved by a shining knight,
because no one cares unless you're beautiful or dying.
I am neither. So where do I belong?
A young woman- no longer a girl- never graced by lips in adoration or sympathy.
Never known love,
what is love, really?

Can't anyone tell me? Because I'm sitting inside this bricked up wall,
invisible to certainty and all the passerby.
They pass on by, pass me by, can't they see me cry?
This wall is too **** high.  
Just like the last guy.

And I was dead before I was born.
What a cold heart, I'm never warm.
I found the world, but it was broken.
I found love but it was wasted,
Like the last man I tasted.