I know that I'm ugly
But the most I can say
Is that I don't care
About appearance anyway

Even though that
Is a bold-faced lie
You try proving
Otherwise

Being an adult is realising the monsters under your bed are nothing compared to the ones in your head.

Strange how sanity
looks so very different
from the outside

There is a quote out there
somewhere
that sums up exactly
how i feel
i haven't read it yet
and so
am left with only
my own words.

my soul washed upon a beach
after many years at sea
it is bleached and hollow
worn too smooth
like shells that batter each other
along the shoreline
and in the early hours
when the Sun provides enough light
you find me
and place me in your bag
with stones and lost treasures
that you would later admire
and add to your display
or simply toss aside

i was sitting on a swinging bench
listening to squawks and squeaks
and i saw a little spider
no bigger than the freckle on
the knuckle of my thumb.
i asked it, "what is your purpose? what is it that you do?"
the response i heard in short
echoed above the noise surrounding me
he said it was "to live"