Zinc is needed to help support the body's immune system, as well as encourage human growth, meaning that without it, defenses and growth are stunted

I met a boy named Zinc
correction
I met a man named Zinc
correction
I met a man who called himself 'Z' even though his parents still called him 'boy' and named him Zinc, because Neon
was too flamboyant and Iron was too tasteless, and who on earth names their kid 'Oxygen', right?

ANYWAY:

It's worth noting that Z liked everyone, meaning A-X, and I was left wondering why he seemed to like girls who waved with the backs of their hands and not the palms, and why the only time he spoke to me was if I wouldn't leave him alone, and why it's obvious to those around him that lights are flashing in the eyes of 'why'-
correction
-'Y'-
correction
-ME when he noticed the stars I stole from the night in an attempt to spell his name out for the Gods but he was too busy hoping to catch the attention of the Devil and I hope she breaks his heart so he knows what it's like to wake up feeling empty because you gave your all to a person with a gambling problem, and I...
...don't make sense anymore.

ALRIGHT

I met a man who called himself 'Z' even though his parents still called him 'boy' and named him Zinc, and he didn't like the chain around my neck, but he let me wear it because it reminded him of hope, which he had lost when he was young, but had vicariously experienced through me. Just kidding.
Her.
Capital 'H', lowercase '-er', silent 'she's not going to love you like I will'...

I LIED

he doesn't know I wear a cross (or used to) because he's too busy falling in love with the fact that she's got daggers in her eyes and she knows how to dance to all his favorite songs, while I only know the lyrics to them all, and maybe she won't break his heart but she sure as hell won't be gentle with it either because girls like me write about girls like her and girls like her burn books about boys like him.

I'm not sure what this poem is about. Or why it is the way it is. That's a lie.
I know, but I can't say I want to anymore...

TO BE CONTINUED...

My friends all think I'm crazy because I stand in the middle of the street and talk to a God that doesn't exist while high-fiving the windshields of passing school buses. I stopped taking my medication again because guilt taste a lot better than artificial happiness, and I stopped wearing that cross you bought me for my eight birthday because it contradicted the sense of uselessness I received for my twelfth. Life seems a lot less precious when you're talking to your parents in the TV room of a psychiatric unit and look them in the eyes while they tell me not to cry and say that 'pain is only temporary'. All I do is write letters to a man on the moon about the time I realized how hard and easy it is to die. Send me to therapy and make me take pills. I'll smile, but I'll always remember how to tie a noose

isolation is a wonder
aggressively pacifying
the unspoken.

what warmth
when you realize you are
slowly self-destructing.

"you symbolize living here, and that's why some
days i miss you more than others. some days, i
can forget about you. mostly, it's next to impossible."

then again, chasing you felt like racing to the hospital.
as the odometer rose, the pain inside my chest only
grew from moderate to severe. the safe haven was
the hospital room where you would stabilize and
make your patients feel better. the car was going
eighty five in a sixty line. no matter how far we got,
it seemed like the cops were at every corner waiting.

the speeding tickets would only hold me back for
so long until the pain would become something
only a legendary warrior of battle could ignore.

and when i finally got to the hospital, no patients
were getting let in. i'm still in the waiting room
where the pain is next to impossible to ignore.

you symbolize this hospital room. this is what
i waited for to ease my pain, but at what cost
when i got a lollipop and a smiley face sticker
for my speeding tickets and the unbearable wait?

- kra

it's never bitter between us
but the aftertaste is poison

- kra

are you ever afraid
that you won't fit
back into someone's
life like you used to

there's no one true love—there's five of them
there's fifteen of them. there's zero,
and that's the hard thing to figure out—is if you only
love one person for four years, you could miss out on meeting the person you could have loved for forty. but you'll never know how long you'll last with a person until you've reach the end of the forty.
there's no one true love—there's only ever standards reached
only ever standards lived up to, only ever standards broken. new chances taken and old flames you wish you still had
(but only to light a cigarette with)

what's made of gold, is made of crystal—
sold for steel in the streets of Bristol.
pulled the trigger before you cocked the pistol.
what's made of gold, is made of crystal—

Betwixt all the lights
Through all the sound
Mother nature doth whisper
"Slow the **** down"