Ladies and gentlemen,
Please do not let your significant others
Keep you from talking to your friends
Because our time on this earth is limited
And we need all of the people we can
To live our days as if they are the last.
By shutting me out, dear,
You are taking pieces of my life.

Don't know what to think
Just need to let my acts speak
But I'm conflicted

Born from ice,
On a mountain called love.

I know too much pain.
My lungs continuously fill with frost.

I am numb,
Yet I feel everything.

Inhale.
Exhale.

Again.
And again...

Until one day there will be but one.
Be it fire, or ice.

I read the pages of my life so clear,
Its images dismissed as pains of youth,
And yet, though far, I see them all so clear,
Relive the fear, hope, warmth  glimmers of truth.

Vague shadows visit me and leave behind,
Uneasy feelings draped in tenderness,
I see too well, yet wish that I were blind,
And fear above all else my truthfulness.

If only I believed that I could find,  
One path in life to follow faithfully;
How sad that knowledge can be so unkind,
And pain the wages of our honesty.

I'd gladly give my life for peace of mind,
Yet know in life it is not mine to find.

Wasn’t it just sublime
When you had the time
To be kind

I know it was for me
I was filled with glee
Running around happily

But then something changed
The waves turned away
Your eyes turned gray

The one I once knew
Makes me feel blue
I thought you’d miss me too

I realized it’s just your own selfish reasons
That your really leavin
You really had me believin

We would be one...

Maybe in another life I will be something less painful than a human
Fewer feelings and emotions and ridiculous devotions
Perhaps a butterfly so I may sprout wings to go wherever I please
To escape when I want and live among the trees
To be free from the mortal bonds which bind me still
Being crushed by those who see me as a bent and dying daffodil
I am viewed as a damaged and battered being
Yet it seems as though my outside casing is the only thing people are seeing
My mind is quiet foggy but my folded stems are not painful
They just distort my appearance and for that I'm quiet thankful
Because if those who care were to ignore my imperfections
Then by chance I could avoid societal dissection
Let me return as a creature without sense or thought
Then I will never be caught thinking of what I used to be
I'll be free from the prospect that the world ruined me
I thought I was alone in this place of misery
But I was soon brought out and could see clearly, instantly
Love was the lens I needed for sight
But now like the butterfly, it has left to take flight
There once was a time when the world brought me joy
Until I found people who sadistically poison and destroy
Now I again must revert back to nature
In the end it is all I have left...
Sooner or later

"If I killed myself today, the sun would still come out, the stars would still shine, so why not?"

Why is that a comfort? A warm, firm hand on my cold heart
The soft touch of a delicate embrace

But, it's supposed to be bad right?

I shouldn't but I want to
I know I can't yet I yearn still
What is wrong with me?
I find solace in strange places
The screaming of thunder storms and harsh blows of the wind
The chaos and pushing of hundreds of bodies against my own
I've learned to like the dark, the ugly, the bad

And it feels good
Why is that so bad?

But if it is so right, why does my heart scream "guilty" ?

Awwww, you're so pure?
Why,        IS it
I                           insist                               upon
complimenting
my                   friends
and they cannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnot
take it
at                all?
I'm dubbed                                   pure
                                          innocent
                                   sweet
                                         How
                                  come?
Am
    I
      just
            a people
                      pleaser?
Terrified                            of                    social       rejection
so I try too hard
to be
that                                                 "nice"
girl
But,                      is she me?
Actually?
                                Cause,
                                          I do see the good
                                                               in others
                                         And the
                                                       bad
            Letting one out
Keeping the other
In         secure
In
Criticisms layered,                       with little
flowers
       Revealed
                   as soft
and mushy
            No hard edges
    Overly soft,
As if one               were                     protecting                  
                             a child





But,



Is
  It
    Me?