It's
it's
it's a collection of thoughts
cough cough
a
a
a collection of things, things that don't want to be seen.
Seen by the likes of you, with your nosey eyes and pointed up chin.
Look at all the disgrace that you placed on them.
But, don't be sad, happy, or crossed between both.

It's
it's not about your emotional pain.
I am the star of this show, do you not see the bright lights that glean out of my checks?
But, now they are turning meek and red from the heat.
The show slowly turns to you and
I fade out,
sitting alone not because I have no one,
but because they are in places I don't want to be.
in places that I don't want to see,

Now, what am I trying to say?
Oh yes, listen to me.
I am me.
I am not the ocean, or the sun.
The moon does not crave my call.

You are not the earth or the world,
you do not deserve my attention, nor I yours.

What is observed and deserved...
it's
it's
it's called being kind,
because maybe I can help, if you let me.
I hate you, you stole my shine.
But, don't be discouraged when I still hold out a pencil for you to use on your final exam.

I do not  intent for this to be a threat or a regret. I am just trying to help,
my own opinions do not hold true.

You do not have to trust me or love me,
Because I will not.

The difference between us is subtle, yet I see it.
No matter, if I can make your day a little better I will try.
Or make you laugh rather than cry I will still try.

A skull on my finger
A skull on my shirt
A skull on my pants...

Will anyone notice?

You're young
no matter how much your chin points up
or how you can hold a conversation
the quiver isn't in your voice
footstep
or how modest you are.

you're young
and the naivety can only be shown
through the half crooked smile
and the raw look in your eye when everything seems perfect.

you're young, now
live

It's 1:25 in the morning.
I'm sitting in bed,
not really knowing why I'm still awake.

It's the ear bud in my ear,
the other dangling by my side.
No music is playing, no music is on pause.

It's the unknown beat in my head,
I think about moving to its rhyme.
But then it's gone. Replaced with a new song.

It's the sleep that etches into my eyes,
or the bags under them.

Hell,
it's the fact that I think I'm twisted.
or maybe it's the reason I'm tired.

I wonder if my life would be alright
If I turned into a cat between the night

The main mission of my day of slumber
Is to find the most comfortable place to lumber

In solitude I would thrive
Teamwork still Would be nice

All I know is cats dream of mice
Sometimes I think that would be nice.

Thoughts bombared my mind,
I think thats all fine.
Isn't it the way we twirl,
Before the evening light.

The narrow line
I swallow

And the things I never finis

In the beginning and in the end
we all thrive for the same thing

and for that thing
time doesn't change
while its forms may never be the same

but the causes of all our battles won
and the end of the every lost heart...

here lie a women and a man
but who they are

nobody knows
and yet sorrow feels our eyes

and yet we can't help but wonder
and yet time still dies

and our grasp has slipped away

we can neither go back
and the future we await

stuck in the present past and time

but what we know isn't in our mind

for you see I only know half the story

and the rest is only for you to find out
but look and you will see

what time has laid out for thee

don't look back forward march
and remember
look before you cross the street