It was magical to see him crack
It was not a symbol that his youth was gone
But a glimpse of the innocence behind his façade
Sounding cynical, but loving the show
So put together, seeming inhuman, but when emotions came
Sickly interested and fulfilling that craving
To see one at a downfall
It was magical to see him crack

I always act like this maelstrom of destruction is not by choice
I sit and scream in my mind but can’t get out my true voice
If I could speak do I know my speech
Would I listen then teach but never preach
Would I say the truth or cover it with a blanket
Would you listen with bird like free ears or like jenga try to take out a piece
Would you understand or burn me like a spatula flying off grease
Will I be ok when you act all cold
When I know you don’t care about a story unsold
I try to free my mind by hearing my shy voice out loud
But the stories I have I’m not always so proud
So I guess i’ll sit and have to start from the start
So when you take a dart and throw it at my heart
Remember I tried I tried to free my mind
And from the deepness of my heart maybe there was something that I wanted to find
When you sit and talk about a past that I never hard
And you judge me like you’ve never been sad
When you all act like you can deal with your pain better than I can deal with my own
Like you’ve never done something messed up and learn and grown
When you say you all carried me up my stairs because I couldn’t stand
Well that’s a lie because I wish I could have got a helping hand
And I get so explosive when I hear everybody talk, talk, and talk
Not knowing about the scars or the places that I had to go
So good luck covering up your own pain by stooping this low
You know nothing about me or the pain that I do still hide
So next time at those lunch tables, lab tables, lockers
Look at what you’ve done, said, hid, or when you lied
About a girls past that you never really cared about and just wanted something to put into that conversation
Maybe if this mad worlds lucky next time you’ll give it some hesitation
And when you sit there every single day
Remember that this was the something that I would have, could have, should have, wanted to say

The entangled dust touched garden
hold secrets from the seasons of change
desperate chameleon leaves
                                                  C
                                                     L
                                                        I
                                                          N
                                                             G
To the trees like the last
plucking petal to the flower and a naive child,
praying for ears to BURN with those ignorant yet powerful words
                                  "he loves me"
Broken
             D
                O
                   W
                       N
                            Like compost
                                     Left there
scented mint leave aura adjusting to a constant reminder of your scent
knowing I was decomposable
but nothing in a garden stands
              *alone

The loneliest summer with a boatload of goodbye
with a non existent voice of whisper, I wished the new love away
never knowing that the infatuation could make me feel so high
Sitting with words stumbling over shot glasses to forget that day
smoking cigarettes because they reminisce of your scent yet lie
but like love, scents burn bitter sweet sensation
nothing and everything I never again confide
but I wish not remember that changing season confrontation
knowing you were not mundane thought so moon phase new
take that lipstick off my lips as easily as you can keep your word
true colors release, as hostility grew
living in your life -now- off only what I heard
scared to speak three words, eight letters feel
manipulation to keep always as need
promise of nature that you would not leave scars to heal
but you dear knew I loved you, why did you need power to succeed
in case you feel despair, you still twist my mind
leave me with a solitary life, not ready to let this go
i'm scared that infatuated feeling will be hard to find
still hung up like rope, melting low
still hear that voice speaking soft almost speech but less
the loneliest summer with a boatload of goodbye
I still love you, this is the coffee stained paper confess
never knowing that infatuation could make me feel so high