What if I tell you that
This world is going to end
And that end is not too far,
You probably won’t believe me.
Allow me to take you to a journey
A journey to the end of the world.
A world without a hint of greenery.
A world with all sorts of armaments but no food and water.
A world congested with people.
A world infected with diseases.
A hot world on the verge of a cold war.
A world with numerous machines but no fuel to run.
A world with no shred of humanity.

"As I walked in a ocean, embracing the fastly moving waves hitting my knees like it had that much power, I noticed a two sea shells; A white one, and a grey one. I picked them up and eyed them. Then I picked up the white one carefully and listened. It had peaceful wind playing and As I picked up the darker one, My hand my stabbed slightly by a pointy hedge. Then the question came to mind. Heaven or Hell?~"

it's funny how i never expected to be the one apologizing.
you see, i'm usually the one who gets hurt and the one who is left wondering what I did wrong. What made them leave me?
But it's the other way around now, I didn't mean to hurt you.
I think there's just so much sad in me that I just exploded like a grenade hurting everyone around me. This sounds like an excuse and I don't want it to be. I truly am sorry for everything that I have caused you.
I think I've been hurt too many times in the past that I've built a wall surrounding myself to prevent me from getting hurt more. I don't expect you to understand or accept my apology.
I think I should leave but you see, I feel like poison ivy, I'm wrapped around you and I can't let go.
But you can die from poison ivy so I think you're just going to have to cut me off.
I won't want to leave and I don't think I ever will. But I'm not healthy for you.
I'm sorry, but I don't think those words will ever do any justice.
The other people don't matter to me, I was just trying to fill up a void. To try and find a muse but it failed miserably. I hope you know that.
I should leave, I'm rambling and I probably am to stall time because this hurts me too even if you may not see it.

These words spun,
Like silk,
And occasionally poorly fashioned,
Spider-webs,
From my mouth,
Could all fit so nicely together.
Wouldn't that be the dream?
If these poems could form a book;
A collection?

i stick to the walls and people around me
like they are covered in glue and i am a fly
i spin out of control, hoping to grasp on to something real
and maybe one day i'll be washed of my sins
and be with my thoughts and stick to myself

Dear future whoever you are,

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry if I can't seem to say the words "I love you" without stumbling over the words, or saying them really fast and running away, or them sounding stiff and forced like I don't really mean them, because I can assure you

I do

But you see the thing is

My family was never big on "I love you's"

Or affection for that matter, you see

We prefer "make sure the doors locked" being thrown over a shoulder as it rushes out the door

Or the ever so entertaining " put your seatbelt on, before I decide to test my breaks" as we are driving down a road

And just let me apologize in advance if you ever tell me that you, love me

And I freeze

It's not from shock I swear, okay maybe it is, a little bit, depending on the situation

But its probably mostly due to not being used to hearing it

I mean in the fifteen years I have under my belt so far I can't recall ever  hearing them said to me

So forgive me if I freeze, and then give an awkwardly delayed " I love you" back

And just know this

No matter how awkward or delayed or stuttered or fast it's said

I only say those three words when I mean them

And it's hard for me to say them

It really is

So dear future whoever you are

Please understand

I may not have heard them much

But I understand the meaning behind them

And just know

I love you, too

You-
you have a lot on your plate
and me-
I am just pushed in next to the others
that weigh you down while you're trying to carry
a thanksgiving meal of responsibility
and at the same time not be crushed by it-
You don't like it when your food touches.
So there I am waiting at the edge of all the chaos
trying not to step over boundaries or cross the line
I am just another thing thrown onto your plate
of responsibilities.
I am a shadow.
A walking disaster.
And I try to avoid all the things
that are so ferociously trying to bring you back down-
but all I do is end up making it worse
making all your **** end up touching
so it becomes a mountain upon your shoulders
that eventually turns into a chip upon it-
you have gone concave-
you became acute when you were once so obtuse
so full of life
so 180 degrees out of everyone else's ******* box
and I closed you in.
Made you realize what you needed to make yourself small
so you could eventually fit the plate just right on your shoulders.
I try to take the weight-
try to pick it all up myself and do something to help you get through
but I just end up touching everything-
You don't like it when your food touches.
You-
you are concave in my convex world
always looking inside yourself-
always hiding away inside of the parts of yourself
I will never see because I'm too busy looking outward
to find something I can do for you.
We are trigonometry-
which is the only type of math I was ever good at in school
but I can't seem to find the right angle anymore
you are too scalene and not enough isosceles
there's no symmetry in the way you look at me-
there's too many different sides to you.
I'd like to think I've seen them all
I'd like to think I've solved what degree
every angle you feed me turns out to be-
but it seems that the angles aren't what I should be finding.
You're just a circle-
I can find your radius
but I don't have enough of you anymore
to find your circumference.
We will always be abstract.

step one,
come to bed.
two,
tuck me in
three,
crawl in next to me
four,
we kiss
five,
sleep.
blissful sleep.
six,
i wake up in sadness. i cling to you.
you stay. and hold me. and promise to never leave.
seven,
it's morning.
you're still here.
eight,
you're here. you're still here. you'll never leave. you'll always be here.

She wants to learn to fly,
So that she'll never be afraid in an airplane again,
She wants to learn to write well,
So she will never be afraid of how her thoughts are displayed,
She wants to learn ballet,
So she will never be afraid she isn't beautiful.
Poor little girl,
No one ever told her that you,
Never stop being afraid.