Passenger seat of your Pontiac, a cigarette in hand
Second-hand smoke childhood, grown up on-demand
As addiction sows her seeds in me, I’ll pass it back to you
Our teenage love is dangerous, but your beater car is blue
We can race down the backroads, find a quiet place
Light a joint and take a hit. My fate with you is laced
Your psychedelic highs, may they guide your plight
Speeding up the highway, with but a cigarette for light
Our parents drank their sorrows, gave the rest to us
So here we are, tried and true, with a shot between my bust

I hope today you can truly celebrate yourself
I'm so proud of how far you've come
And even though I don't agree
With a lot of your actions
I'm still happy that you've been able
To make yourself happier
We might not be together anymore
But I'll always have this fondness for you
So happy birthday to my first love
I hope everything plays out the way you want it to

When I was 2 years old.
I did not know true pain,
I did not know true fear.
My life was full of rainbows.
When I was 2 years old-
My innocence was my beauty.
Years went by;
I was now 8 years old.
I knew pain,
I knew fear
The rainbows in my life no longer there.
The rainbows replaced with storms;
Storms of violence, of pain and fear.
My perseverance was my beauty.
6 more years pass,
I was 14.
Full of pain.
Full of fear.
I was scared of life.
My beauty was gone.
Now 3 years later...
I still know pain,
I still know fear.
But things have changed.
The rainbows look down on me once again.
The pain - still there, but less prominent.
The fear, following me - but no longer dominant.
So, now at 17.
I live, I understand and I love.
When I was 2 years old my beauty was my-
Innocence.
When I was 8 years old my beauty was my-
Perseverance.
When I was 14 years old my beauty was gone.
My beauty no longer missing.
It is no longer hidden.
My beauty has arisen.
My beauty, now...
At 17 years old.
My beauty now is;
My 17 years of pain,
My 17 years of fear,
My 17 years of experiences,
My beauty is me.
I am my beauty.

When I met her I knew she was a sleepless night in the making.
She lays on a bed fit for mortals,
but the moon places a halo on her head as she sleeps.
I curse my eyes,
as acidic darkness clings to her skin
and eats at my ability to see her at peace.

Seventeen years of life
and I still have yet to realize:
that being a sucker for insomniacs is not good for me.

The clock  ticks
ticks
ticks

Pounds on the inside
Of my skull -

Need an aspirin

nobody knows what they want
not when they're 17
and not even when they're 40
people look for their best option
whatever is going to fill the void in their heart
at that moment

whether it be a job
a sport
a hobby
or a person

some people don't always choose correctly in the moment
it's hard to know what you want
to decide what's best
that's why so many people choose wrong

because
nobody knows what they want
not until
it's right in front of them