Some say that
People who read books
Live in a fantasy
And know nothing of the real world

But books have taught me
More than anyone ever could
They've taught me
The difference between good and evil

They've taught me
What is real and what is fake
They taught me
How to escape this world

They've taught me
That all humans aren't alike
And everybody is beautiful
In their own way.

Books have taught me
More than anyone ever could.

I let different boys touch me
Because I wanted to know
Even for a second
What it felt like to be loved
Even if the love was cheap
And it tasted like ***
Like the punchline to a joke
I never got because it was me

I let different boys have different parts of me
Parts they didn't deserve
But I offered up willingly because I couldn't give anything else
after you broke me
I was looking for different fingers
to place different pieces and hoping  the outcome
would be a masterpiece
Maybe one of them would find a way
to cover up the handprints you left all over me

I let different boys touch me because I had to prove to myself
you wouldn't be the only one
that these scars marking my body wouldn't define
my worth to be loved
I am not entirely sure  
you aren't the only one who could ever touch me without slightly  flinching

I let different boys touch me because that is all I have been taught
To be a joke
To be silent
To be ready to give until you have nothing left
- they keep leaving me and I am to scared to offer up anything more than my body to get them to stay

Maybe it's the way you look at me,
Maybe it's the way you hold me,
Maybe it's the way you care for me,
Maybe it's the way you talk to me,
Maybe it's the way you understand me,
Maybe it's the way we joke around,
Maybe it's the way we love,
Maybe all it is
Is you.

I wish I was a bird
Maybe a blue jay or a finch
because I could brighten the world
with my vivid colors
and sing peacefully
through the mornings.
Maybe I could be a heron
large and lanky
with legs that stretch tall
and hold me higher than others.
But maybe being an owl would suit me
those smaller would fear me
my majestic and glorious self
large fluffy wings carrying me
all through the night.
But maybe I'd just be a hummingbird
Small and fragile
Almost invisible to everything else
yet I'd still make such an impact.
I guess I wish I was bird
because I'd finally be able to fly free
in a way I could never do
without a set of wings.

I feel like writing
but what?
What is there left
to talk about?
Just about everything's
been said or done
at some point,
so what is there left to write.
And how can it be
that there are still
new combinations
for people to write.
So now what do I write?
Well,
I guess this will do.

"Don't touch me," I whisper.
Usually a phrase reserved
for those who have a reason.
Abuse, assault, or something along those lines.
Not for me
a girl without a reason.
Maybe its an anxiety thing
or part of the depression.
Or simply because
I'm afraid.
Touch is equivalent to affection.
Maybe I think I don't deserve it
or maybe I'm scared to hold onto it.
But nevertheless
you'd think a person would listen.
Back away or freeze
And decide not to touch you
because its not what you want
whether its only a kiss or hug
from a family member
You'd think they'd register a no.
But they don't
they surge forward
wrapping themselves around you
suffocating me until I'm gasping for breath
"Please don't touch me"
means nothing to those
who have hugged you before
because they think they're special.