If anyone ever made you feel like you're important
Know that you're not
That can change in an instant
One conversation, one person, one decision
All amounts to nothing

All was well
That perfect moment in time
Just to collapse right in front of you
You think that the pleasure was all mine
Just to have you in my life
But at night, you're still by yourself

Alone in your head
Alone in a room full of people
You never could have been more misled
To think that you were important
To think that you were actually worth something
But instead, you continue to put yourself through more torment

If anyone ever made you feel like you're important
Know that you're not
The change in life is always constant
No one can promise you what's nonexistent
It's an overplayed romanticized concept

So remember, if anyone ever makes you feel like you're important
Just know that you're not
The life we live isn't guaranteed
We live alone, we die alone
And alone in life, we will proceed.

A woman is reduced to the ***** of her curves

to the dimensions of her ****** features

but whoever dares calculate those

should be assigned a paper big enough,

a mind smart enough,

to help them figure out the boundless extent

of the vastness of the paradise that lies under her feet.

There's too much in me
To let it all out on you
And besides, you say,
You're not that important now
It shouldn't matter to you.

we place so much importance
on words, don’t we?
like these black lines
define us or something
like these speech bubbles can represent
the real thing inside
so why do we find words for things
that do not exist?
and why are there some things
that we cannot describe?
four letters, four words
an entire book isn’t enough
to explain how i feel right now
when i hardly know myself
and that’s just the thing
we place so much importance on words
as if they can say what we can’t
as if i could just reach inside myself
and pull out this feeling, confused and unheard
and words will fill in the blanks for me
but it’s not like that
we place so much importance
on something we created ourselves
and we write words down, like love
and hate and everything in between
and it seems to me like putting pen to paper
just solidifies the definition
tattoos it into reality’s skin, and it sinks in
and that word takes hold
whether or not it was true
of course, here i am
hypocritical as usual
tearing down the one thing
that lets me speak my mind
but i guess i just wish there was some other way
to figure out how i really feel

someone take me for a ride
run down the side of some old tumbling hill
i'm tired of slowing down
steady snapping of fingers
in my pocket, deep within
i have this rhythm fighting to get out
and it's echoed in the beating of my heart
an uneven, fluttering drum
trying to interpret this morse code
relay the message

but what is the message?
all i know is
my limbs are heavy and my fingers are weak
my mind is strong but somehow
my heart and soul just won't play along
today is a lead-filled day
all sullen footsteps and empty thoughts
and lines scratched into the sand
wiped away by the slow shuffle
up and down stairs
as my feet try and find the right place to be
at the right time
and the clock screams out its lines, telling me
i'll always be too late
i'll always be one step ahead
i'll always be right in the middle
i'll always be like this, nowhere and everywhere
important and invisible

what is the message?
my eyes are dim and my ears are dull
and my senses are sleeping
while i, trapped inside
am trying to escape a cage
whose bars are made of nothing
bent by nothing, shaped by nothing
i am held in by nothing
am i nothing?