Growing up is realizing that most everyone never means what they say,
it's the proof that no one actually loves nor cares for you,
but the things you can provide them with and serve to them.
Growing up is seeing how complicated and mischievous the world really is in the reality we live,
it's noticing the pieces fitting together in a ****** off puzzle no one pays any mind to figure out,
wondering through streets and transparency of all whom fill them.
Growing up is publishing the truth and the mighty glory it with holds,
it's figuring out what no one really cares to perceive in honesty.
Growing up is having your heart broken by those who once promised to put it back together and never having them back as you thought it was before because, you see through it all, through than and the faults.

i'm feeling empty
inside
like someone took an
ice cream scoop
and hollowed out my
stomach more easily than
sawing open and
gutting out a cantaloupe.

there's nothing in there
nothing where the seat
of my emotions
used to be
because when i'm alone
even the anger
dulls to the stab of a poorly
sharpened knife.

i've stood in the hot
white kitchen with the tall
metal countertops
some stiff sort of summer
breeze fluttering the
ineffective flypaper
stringing the low ceilings
and watched you
precisely section off a
watermelon.

but now i'm the one on that
hackneyed cutting board
and you don't even notice the
juice streaming to the edge.

my overactive mind
used to be a razor
slicing quickly
almost painlessly
but now it's just a dull
serrated edge scraping
along my slowly
ripping skin.

everyone sitting at
the dinner table
passing me around and
laughing as they sink
their forks into me
and you always wondered
why i avoided family
meals at all costs.

i'm being
eaten alive
like fruit
in the summer
and your only
concern is how
many slices you'll
get out of me
and whether or not
i was sweet enough.

Who bled first?
Was it me
or you?
Does it even matter
which of us
stabbed the other first?

Maybe the majority of your malice march is fueled with fire;
fictionalized by myself. Simply because my greatest desire is
currently to avoid knowing that you long to hurt me. Dear, let
me tell you this; **I know everything.

I've always been there to catch you when you fall,
But every time I fall,
It was you that pushed me.

I am afraid to be alone with myself.
Because I don't want to know myself.

I don't want to see myself,
The way other people do.
People are always leaving,
And if I realise why they do,
Will I leave too?

I don't want to know.

You claim to be friendly and caring
But theres a difference
Between disliking someone
And being a bully.

There are so many people I thought that I could trust
But they all tell my secrets like it’s the daily news
As if their life depended on it, as if they really must
Don’t any of them have anything remotely better to do?

I write to let out my feelings, all of them at once
Since nobody wants to listen, nobody even cares
Everywhere I go I’m met with thick unfriendly silence
But once people find out, it’s the latest sick affair

And they talk about me like I’m a bad disease
All I wanted was some solace and the impossible peace
In my small little mind, because that doesn’t exist out here
I want to feel free, but I have so much that I fear

If someone else finds out, it’s another juicy story
I can’t cope with this, although the world is temporary
It will be over soon, but how long will it take?
For people to accept me and the choices that I make?

But what is worst of all is that I don’t know which one
Of these liars had started this never-ending war
They always seem to be in need of my thin ceasing blood
Waiting like hungry dogs for a possible taste of more

I try to be patient and I try to at least be kind
Try to soothe myself and earn a peace of mind
It’s not like they deserve it, but I’m better than my foes
I don’t pretend and smile for the sake of petty shows

My rule is that if you’re nice to me, then I’ll be nice to you
It’s not that complicated, but people don’t even try
And if you want to start over, then I’d be happy to
But real friends don’t backstab or tell each other lies