There was a song,
I recall like a drug.
From my childhood,
yet faintly lost at sea.

It was a sweet song.
A whistle?
A sweet song indeed.
It was a humming,
and a hemming.
And I sway to the long,
for that old sweet song.

The song that shut
sweet child eyes.
The song that could
disguise bad times.
The song filled with warmth,
to soften my ice.
The song that calmed pain,
proving the existence of 'truly nice.'

This song from way low,
to the day I now know,
is my..heart
my..sky
my lu-lu-lullaby

I stood there.
Staring.
A snow-capped peak stared back.
I became exceedingly captivated.
Captivated by the thought that he and I existed;
Existed now.
Existed here.
Existed together.

I became a shell.
A shell filled with explosive joy.
And I could no longer become underwhelmed.
Nor could I become whelmed.

I lived.


I will never believe in myself more,
Never trust in Creation more,
Never be enveloped in the stillness more
Than I did in that moment.

Glimpsing that skyline.
Staring down a mountain.

"Grow up tall,
little kid,"
said grandpa Joe.
And so I did.

The watermelon grow tall too.
The sunflowers look to the sky,
keeping their chins up,
raised real high.

So maybe it's silly,
watching grass grow,
but if you never try,
how could you ever know?

So maybe it's crazy,
chanting for the rain,
but if it never comes,
how could I grow the grain?

I'd prefer to stare at clouds,
than sleep forever like a rock,
skidding by life.
Why, that would just ****!

So, if you ask me to leave this here place,
you better shove it,
before you wake up
in an unknown space,
******* with lace,
with a disfigured face,
completely full of mace,
and a strange case
of something poisonous.

People diein' on the streets.
****** puddles at our feets.

But we could be a family.
We could be a whole.
We could be together.
But no one could be cold.

If we could live on an island,
no hate,
no guns,
no war.
We'd look back and wonder,
what was it all for?

People diein' on the streets.
****** puddles at our feets.

Gangs,
tempts,
nudes,
exempts.

We sit at desk,
eating or eaten.
we laughed at or laughing.
beating or bleedin'.

We know the truth, but call it cruel.
The cruel one is we, the blind fool.

People diein' on the streets
****** puddles at our feets.

Who shot the most guns?
Who then killed them all?
Who didn't mind a casualty?
Who could be responsible?

"Not me!" we cry,
"I'm a good soul."
But even if we declined,
can I be told where they go?

Yesterday was sour, so today will be sweet.
Today was bitter, so tomorrow will be neat.
I just have to hold on tight.
Slide down 1,2,1,2.
And I know I'll be alright,
but fixing this is something I can't do.

I've been cursed a gruesome pain. I must spend odd days feeling insane. But even, my smile will be on the other days. Still is it worth the tragedy it pays? If I could run from fate, I wouldn't wait. I'd go so far away. I wouldn't look back any day.

you're the perfect beat in the song
together, you're knotted with a perfect memory
you're a could have, should have,
you're a wish and a dream
and to trace my fingertips across your skin
feels like heaven and bliss running through me
head to toe, and sometimes at a breaking point
but I'm not even sure if my words mean anything
because we can spend all night, all day, all year
talking. laughing. fighting.
we can spend forever in ecstasy, thinking it'll never end
I will still have my doubts
because you're a couldn't have, shouldn't have
just a wish and another goodbye

I want to run.
Be free.
Be the little girl they see in me,
but plot-twist happen frequently,
opening your eyes to things you didn't see.
Burning the cheerful into your mind.
If only I didn't once leave that behind.
If I could return to those naive, fun days.
But fun was out and sad was in,
so I figured "well okay."
I dived right in,
singeing my skin,
turning me to the pit.
I was told,
"don't follow your instincts",
so I guess this is what I get.
Now I sit alone,
a pitiful lump of coal,
as a dog without bone,
or soccer ball with no goal.
I'm heading to "God knows where"
on a train called "Oopsy Days,"
and when I arrive,
they will all be amazed.
For I am the writer
who will give them a story,
for I am a lighter,
and my flame gives me glory.

What is wrong?
You don't sing the normal song.
Your tune is so off,
the words all seem so wrong.
You're losing your mind?
You're falling apart?
This can't be out of the blue.
Just when did this start?
What don't you understand?
I can't help, if I don't know.
                                                           ­           What is wrong?
                                                          ­                      I'm trying to explain,
                                                        ­                   and I don't know why,
                                                            ­           but I feel so very vain,
                                                           ­                what was the song,
                                                           ­            I used to sing?
                                                           ­             I'm trying so hard.
                                                           ­            I'm on shattered glass.
                                                          ­          I'm holding these rocks,
                                                          ­       no, boulders of the past.
                                                           ­       I cry out to you,
                                                            ­    but what could you do?
                                                             ­       I'm so scared.
                                                         ­               I'm not strong.
What is wrong?
Please tell me what's wrong?
Why are you scared?
I know, you're not strong.
I don't know how to save you.
I'm no hero, you know.
I'm trying so hard to help you,
but I'm stuck in the front row.
We all love you,
just please,
tell us just what is it you need?
So that we can help you,
and heal as you bleed.
                                                          ­ What is wrong?
                                                          ­     I've changed.
                                                        ­          I'm running from my life.
                                                           ­                I've lost that 'optimistic' me.
                                                             ­           Now who am I left to be?
                                                        Have I fallen like an angel?
                                                          ­           Or am I still on earth?
                                                          ­              Why is pain so painful?
                                                        ­                   Just when did I disperse?
                                                       ­                 Where am I,
                                                              ­        if i'm not here?
                                                            Somehow I just disappear?
                                                      ­            I'm unstable.
                                                       ­                  Save me.
                                                             ­   Save me.
                                                             ­        Save me.
                                                             ­         I plead.
                                                          ­    Tell me the answer I really need.
What    is    wrong-                                      with me?