everywhere I look
She's
there- in your notebooks that lay on the floor,
and
the wall that used to have my paper full of rambles,
also used to have things with
Her
on it.

everywhere I go,
She's
there- in my dreams (they always consist
of you leaving me for
Her
and you not even caring about my feelings).
on the internet all I see are poems
and in those poems
i wonder if they make you think of me
like they make me think of you
or if they make you think of
Her
like I know they did once before.

While i'm trying to run away from
Her
I wonder how you do it.
Then I realize, you probably don't.

She's
probably still haunting your dreams
just like mine.
and
She's
probably in all those poems
and on all those pages.

I just hope that
maybe i'm there too.

She's alive
But hardly living
Because her painful thoughts slow her down
As everything seems to carry on around her
Passing her by, speeding her up
Beyond her comfort zone
Because the words don't come
The feelings don't form
The thought races won't stop
And the monsters never die.

But **** is she
Alive.
Her inner life glows
A light so pure and rare
It's easy to recognize
But hard to find.
There's a symphony no one is attuned to hear
A work of art she's longing for someone to appreciate
And it's lonely
It's ******* lonely feeling like everyone's light is recognized
Everyone's is shining so bright
That hers is overshadowed and insulted.
She's alive
But it's killing her.