I don't feel human.
I destroy too much,
Too much to think I am human:
Less than human.
I will break.
I have been broken too long.

Will anybody show me
How to be human again?
Don't say goodbye even though
I'm not here:
I'm in my shadow,
My mistakes deceiving the light in me.
Perfection is friend I made
When I was born to this world.

I'm less human
The more I remain here.
Can't you see
With your own eyes?
The beauty is ebbing away
And I live in a darker gray.
I can't tell if this demon is
Mine, or if it controls me.

Stay with me until the night is gone,
This nightmare has just begun.
Let's go back and diminish
The pains that are of today.
Sing to me until the soft wings of sleep
Suffocate the demon in my mind.
Show me how to be human again,
Like you would if you were mine.

I feel like I'm turning into a grey can of paint.
Y'see, pretty much everything is either black or white to me.
But for a long time, I've been noticing that I'm more stuck in this grey parabole in the middle. I'm always saying things like, "I do know, but I don't know" and, "I want it but I really don't want it". It's all very confusing and my ability to make decisions is diminishing each day I go on like this...
It's making everything seem more and more impossible...
Most days, I'm mixing slightly more with the black than the white (and vice versa). These days aren't so bad- if you've been this state for as long as I have.
Then there's the days when I am the most perfectly balanced grey you could ever lay your eyes upon; there's almost beauty in my misfortune and depleting mental stability. Days like those- a day like this...
A day like this can demolish your spirit in milliseconds. A day like this can stop you from seeing the most vibrant autumn leaves strewn across the earth, as your eyes have now turned to grey. A day like this can let your demons burst out from hiding in the cavities of your mind and start gnawing at things they shouldn't. A day like this makes you not care that all of this is happening to you, just as long as you're still as dull as your cigarette's smoke.

The roses aren't as pretty
The sun isn't quite as high
The birds don't sing as sweet of a lullaby
The stars are a little bit faded
The clouds are just a little more gray
And it feels like things won't ever be the same

Heaven got another angel the night you left this world behind
Heaven got a little better the day that it took you away from me
I'm missing you tonight
I'll see you again sometime
For now, I'll close my eyes
And dream of heaven tonight

The beaches aren't as lovely
The sky isn't quite as blue
Still, they're sweetened by the memory of you
The rain is a little bit colder
The fire is never quite as warm
Still, it seems that heaven isn't all that far

Heaven got another angel the night you left this world behind
Heaven got a little better the day that it took you away from me
I'm missing you tonight
I'll see you again sometime
For now, I'll close my eyes
And dream of heaven tonight

I'm spending a little more time now with the things that mean a little bit more
I'm noticing the wonders of this world
I love with a little more hope now
I live with a little more peace
Cause I understand how precious life can be

Heaven got another angel the night you left this world behind
Heaven got a little better the day that it took you away from me
I'm missing you tonight
I'll see you again sometime
For now, I'll close my eyes
And dream of Heaven tonight

Gray is a color that's not white nor black
it's not dark but not light
It's a mixture of two
Black... No maybe blue?
Gray is mysterious
Depressing at some moments
Modern at the next
Gray has no where to be placed
Gray is Gray
and there's nothing you can do.

I feel as though I've lost my emotions
But gained perspective.

I found new ways to be healthy
I found myself
I have finally attained a grasp on reality
and in the meantime
I haven't changed
I just lost the passionate flair for everything dear
Where is my mind? My mind is rooted firmly to the ground
8-1
Prepping food
2-10
Sleep
11-8
Gaming, starving, bleeding
I revisit my past pains and try them on like scarves in the mirror
Does this still look any good on me now that I've changed?
The cuts have changed
Or maybe I have
The deeper the better
That's why they call me a hipster



I prefer "bohemian"





I can't feel attraction
There goes my heart, falling asleep when I needed it most

Numbers of the lights still don't add up. The dream station on the orange bridge's sands, is so totally too far away to fly to. My life according to the animadversion of my dreams. The harangue and opprobrious odium whilst wandering about aimlessly in the square, on the blackened honey trail where I was cast around like some pebble lapidated by the wind. I barely stand, a hyaloid column soaked in fear and ambiguphobia; one girl's face is blurred by this maddening diplopia. While the haze drapes me in its suits of cinereous gray, I crawl sadly up the rise while I am bruised from the battering. My fuscous body heaps itself, exhausted and pandiculating, all I can make out in the advesperating and cloudy night, in all of its dourly silences- the gold hair fixed against the banner of light in the darkening sky and her beautiful blue eyes.

Gray skies and broken rain
Sliding down the windshield
A lifeline ever-changing
Droplets, in contact they merge
Yet, some sit lonely, isolated
Only to be ****** into the paths of others
Left behind or swept away

A lot of time spent
having miscellaneous conversations with the air.
Even stupid questions like "how's your day" acting as if it'd give an answer, or, even more,
a whisper of inspiration
It's an obligation, or, maybe a delegation, or, a confirmation?
that we will create a masterpiece before insane peace
With a piece of our minds becoming a little less peaceful by the day.
Soon our minds will turn into violent catapults hurling out sentence after sentence making our paper bleed
                                                     Black, Blue, Red, Gray
Joining a cult created by the letters we created ourselves
falling into the abyss these stanzas and paragraphs invite us into
And don't get me wrong, it sounds terrible, but it's home.
There's no place like it.
Where these words are so much more than words,
they're family.
But frequently, we get into arguments that erupt into something sinister
and our desks become littered with papers that wilt and wither into nothing more than liters upon liters
of a type of alcoholic beverage that'll tempt us into becoming outspoken drunkards
But that's the goal:
*to be outspoken.