I will let you win this arm wrestle
So that I can win your heart
Girls are meant to be pretty
Girls shouldn't be too smart
Because boys are meant to be strong,
Only girls can be weak.
Isn't this what you've heard since before you could speak?
But does being female have anything to do with wearing pink?
Why isn't it okay for him to shed a tear?
This is becoming a cycle I fear!

some days

some days i wake up
feeling warm and lovely and happy
feeling whole and right in who i am and what i appear to be

some days i go to bed
barely holding my eyes open against the weight of dreams
barely staying in reality a moment longer

some days i want to create
a dream of imagines on paper
and spill the ink of my mind out onto the world,
eagerly showing the creations of my mind and what excites me as far as
what i can imagine and bring out of the ethereal into the only slightly more tangible inner chambers of my mind palace

other days
i want to destroy
to tear, end to end, the world i have created in my mind and every piece of it i have brought into existence
to shred myself to pieces to rid the universe of such and inadequate creature as myself who dares feel more comfortable as a fluid being, more free to explore and weave in and out of the norms set by society

and then i fall, weak and hollow, to my knees,
full of life and brightness that has been pressed to aside by the gaping holes of heaving singularities within my gut and soul
and i feel dark
and wrong
and numb

but then every so often i get a spark of light in the inky dark of me

and it flutters close

circling my form slowly and giving out the slightest bit of light and warmth

sometimes this first Good Thought or Good Feeling will be crushed
snatched from the air in the claws of a demonic and wild gargoyle

but even so, one by one the light spots will gently blanket the gargoyles,
forcing them to lie in wait once more

for who can fight the gentle persistence of a butterfly

I thought I knew what love was,

Then I fell in love with you,

I can't believe how clueless I was!

Love is not colorful.
Love is black and white.
My tears are blue,
the blood I bleed is red,
my bruises purple,
my envy green.
All these feelings
are technicolor,
demanded to be seen;
felt.
Love sends your mind into a
black out.
Love is just passion fading from
white to grey.
Love is just a blank page;
the light from heaven.
Living is colorful.
Loving is death.

Every move you make,
Shapes your reality,
So the next step that you take,
Should follow morality,
Don't conform for heavens sake,
That's a fatality,
Be true to you don't be late,
We form abnormality,
It's a crime wasting time thinking joy we will find,
Outside ourself there's no help just our own peace of mind,
You may be lost and thats fine please just follow the signs,
You can swerve and hit the curb life is not a straight line,
Every choice that you choose,
Could enhance happiness,
And there is nothing to lose,
If your heart is of bliss,
What do you have to prove?,
That's nonsense just quit,
It's not what you see it's how you look at it.