I never understood,
why being quite some days,
is sinomis with being upset.

Some days I just like to watch,
I find that if most people took the time to observe,
we would have a lot more optimis.

Sometimes you need to get out of your own head,
and just watch and listen to others,
because that is the only way you'll ever understand them.

Some days you need to stop talking,
over all of the voices,
that are trying to teach you so many lessons.

When you are talking,
you are not learning,
but when you stop,
that's where the lesson begins.

You don't always have to be the one telling the punch line,
to enjoy a friends smile.

People are too busy trying to do,
to actually be.
To just sit with your friends,
watch them interact,
and enjoy being there.

For many years my friends would say I was easy to read,
they could always tell,
they would say,
what I was feeling,
when I was lying.

I would laugh and agree,
say lying just wasn't my specialty,
when really,
it's all I ever did.

I would hide my sadness,
not wanting to bog down others with it,
it was my baggage,
and I must carry it alone.

Over the years I formed a mask,
one I still wear to this day,
however,
when you are always wearing a mask,
you see things differently.

Slowly I started noticing all of the masks around me,
whenever I walked outside there was a masquerade,
of fake emotions,
empty smile.

I was able to see through the front people used to keep the world out,
and sometimes I was able to get in,
and help.

It's not always necessary to point them out,
sometimes,
a warm smile,
is all someone needs.

I'm still trapped though,
in my mask,
and its dark and lonely in here.

I want nothing more than for someone to come save me,
rip my mask off,
and embrace me as I am,
not as what I show.

I guess I'm a far better liar than everyone things,
because I am always able to keep my pain so far inside,
that even I sometimes forget it's there.

Sometime I want to die,
and I don't even know why.

To see the light at the end of the tunnel,
to embrace death as an old friend,
to no longer have to exist.

Sometimes it's triggered by something,
but sometimes,
it washes over me,
flows through me,
like molten iron running thru my veins,
burning me from the inside out.

But I continue to move forward,
for better or worse,
I'm not done fighting yet.

If I was your first,
would you have appreciated me as much?

Would you still know that I was the one for you,
and there was no one else?

If I was your second,
would you have grown enough?

Would you know how to love someone,
and how to treat anothers heart?

If I was your third,
would you still have tryed so hard?

Would you know know love is worth fighting for,
would you never give in?

If I was your fourth,
would you be so pashen?

Knowing that love is worth waiting for,
and being so easy to forgive?

If you were my first,
would I have been ready?

Would I be able to handle such a large commitment,
and know what a healthy relationship looks like?

Through trial and evor,
we found each other,
I don't care that I'm not your first,
as long as I'm your last.