Not everyone can be heroes.
There are us.
The cowards.
The ones that,
Quite honestly,
Are not willing to give up our lives.

We are not bad people;
We are not selfish.
We pray that we don't find ourselves in a situation
Where bravery is the desired virtue.
Where fingers will be pointed,
Insults will be thrown.

'Who cares what they think?'
We don't.
We care what you SAY.

'Don't dwell on idle threats.'
We don't.
But they are never idle.

You scoff when we flinch at the raise of your hand,
Calling out: 'wimp'.
But you are the ones
That conditioned us with fear.
We don't run from everyone,
So if we run from you
Then what have you done?
You have hurt us.
Hit us.
You repel us.
And
For some reason
We repel you.

Go ahead. Hate us.
Pressure us into doing things because we aren't strong.
Beat us because our bodies are frozen in fear.
Insult us because our lips are sown shut.

No one can be perfect.
Not everyone can be a hero.
We aren't heroes.
But neither are you.

Across the corridor, I see your face radiant as ever,
I want is to say " Hi " but sadly I cower.
And then on the soccer field, I see you move with complete grace,
winning my heart with your every pace.
Under  your heated gaze, I stumble, I fall
This treacherous game called love isn't for all.

Tall, Dark and Handsome the specimen of divine finesse
While here I am just another girl, a holy mess.
Smitten I stand unable to move,
While my heart dances to its own groove.
Every morning I drag myself to class,
Hoping a wayward smile, my way may pass.
With a friendly embrace, you shattered my walls.
This treacherous game called love isn't for all

Broken am I,
A little I die.
When by your side, the popular girls I see battling for your attention.
But there is nothing I can do to ease my aching soul,
For I don't know the rules of seduction.
Compared to all the Barbies, I feel so small.
This treacherous game called love isn't for all.

Senior Year is over, its time to say goodbye.
My heart is gripped by sadness and all I can do is cry.
Never again will I see you in the corridor, nor you ever my way glance,
For too scared was I of heartbreak and failed to give love a chance.
Never will I know your touch, my love!
Never will I feel your tender embrace.
Thanks to my cowardice this tragedy on me befalls,
Sadly this treacherous game called love isn't for all.

If you live your days

like you’re not living at all,

will you be remembered?

And will your presence

be heard?

Will there be a voice,

illuminating the darkness

that may someday

make its way through?

Will the oceans

be there to guide you

when you need it

the most?

Will the strength you have,

help you at your worst?

Your mere presence

is the key to your very own

successful bliss.

I am but a boy
Amongst nightmares
And monsters
Which reside
In the lobes of my mind.

I do not fear the things
Which sleep beneath
The sheets
or blanket of darkness
Thick and woven with time.

I only fear that which
Reflects in the pools
Of drained tears
Collected over time
In tin cans and plastic bottles.

Thrown and cast into flames
Of happiness
But even the warmest of fires
On the coldest of nights
Will lick at the wounds of fighters.

I am but a boy
Amongst men with no sense
Of direction or purpose
Just surfing on a wave
Of regret and every road is unpaved.

I have taken these bones
From the closet and constructed
Walls for a home but
Every cheap shot is costly
With dues that will go unpaid.

I am but a boy.

There's a serenity in all of the chaos.
A calm within the roar of the waves.
A frozen heart beating inside an inferno.
A shadow beneath the illuminance of rays.

There's a thundering silence in all the noise.
A dulcet tranquil in the eye of the storm.
A faint scrawl on the blank of a page.
A feeling of home in the strangeness of a dorm.

There's a hint of truth in every artistic lie.
A foreshadowing of the future hidden in the past.
A glimmer of a tear in every moment of joy.
A sense of triumph even in finishing last.

There's a bitter tinge in the heavenly delish of sweet.
A lasting perfume of life on the stone of a grave.
A trace of youth in the smile of the old.
A sparkle of freedom in the eyes of a slave.

There's a ripple of bravery in the tremble of fear.
A fuzzy warmth in the embrace of the rain.
A hope of luxury in the dreams of the penniless.
A shade of humility in the swaggering of the vain.

There's a subtlety of violence in the acts of the kind.
An implicit sacrifice behind every advance.
A whisper of melody in the harmony of a human soul.
A flickering doubt in the faith of a religious stance.

There are butterflies fluttering in the orchard.
Dear narcissus in full bloom.
Take a moment to glimpse the beauty.
For its fleeting, they will be gone too soon.