Her dad loves you;
She does not.

The garderner spread the butter on her bread,
The wind gently sways her golden hair,
The joyful maiden with a butter bread and beer
All those moments gone as the master said,
"Could we cultivate lives on this land no more?"
She said,
"No master, they spread their ecstasy. The soil has gone addicted, they have gone addicted."
The master contemplated,
"Was it that plague?"
"Yes, greed and ideology. The poison of soil and soul. Mix them together and the blood spills."

She sits and cries,
She cries and waits,
She waits for someone,
Someone to help,
But no one comes
No one helps,
So
She waits as she cries
She cries as she sits
Next to a boy
Who sits and cries.

I think
The definition of being
"Emotionally Unstable"
Is dropping a pencil on the floor
And wanting to cry
Not
Because of the pencil falling
But the irony
Of how you are able to pick up an inanimate object
But unable
To pick up yourself

It is
Reading a book
And
Looking at the words
Yet
Not truly seeing them
Rereading the first page
100 times
Hoping to find the meaning
That your life
Seems to have lost

It is
Dropping things for no reason
Because you're too numb
To feel your own fingers
But feel too much
To let go
And forgive yourself

It is
Worshipping the hands of the clock
Like a savior
As if every passing minute will bring you to a better future
Not realizing
that every passing minute
Is a vice
That never seems to loosen its hold
On your consciousness

It is
Writing poetry
In hopes
That one day
You will better understand yourself
Through words on a page
Than through your own mind
Hoping
That you will no longer be a subconscious stranger
Occupying your own thoughts
And misleading
The girl you wish to be.

my life