i turn you into poems and maybe it's because i want to see you as something special or maybe i want whatever we are to have some sort of deeper meaning that can only be explained in the most twisted similes and metaphors that make wonder about things i never should wonder about.

i turn you into poems and i ask myself; are you the tree that falls silently in the forest or are you the person that isn't around to hear it? are you the fire or the fuel that i continue to add to it? are you the cause of a chain reaction or just another part of one? is what we had the elephant in your room or was it the entire room itself?

i turn you into poems when it's late at night and i turn myself into a blank page and i cover myself with you but you are only ink and this is only a metaphor.

i turn you into poems when you look at me and i think i can hear the morning song birds telling me tomorrow will bring me happiness but i think you hear the crows and the ravens and you look ominous and i think it is because only i hear the birds and this is only a metaphor.

i turn you into poems when i turn 16 and you haven't so much as smiled at me and i turn to you when i need help and you turn away and i continue to turn you into ******* poems.

you are a book of poems resting by my bed and i am just the author.