Clean living is what you said you're doing.
Well in fact, you're just pretending.
Drinking this Johnny W with your close friends.
Who am I to stop you?
I'm just your friend or maybe just a colleague.
Passed out and tired,
I'm waiting for your reply.
Now I know I'm just somebody...
Somebody you can call nobody.

Nothing good ever happens after 2 AM.
You should have gone home,
Poured a glass of wine,
Listened to Ted Mosby
As you watched HIMYM.

You should have refused
That cup of coffee,
Exposing your heart out
In the process of enjoying
Whatever ‘that’ you have.

It’s past two in the morning,
Hug that pillow, go to bed.
Sleep now, peacefully
And rest well my heart.

and in the words i find
no comfort as i crawl
away to my demise
sad eyes glued to a device

no poem in months
no one seemed to notice
that i missed out on the fun
and that i had nowhere to run

tags and labels
hoping i'll be noticed
but my attempts come to no avail
and my imagination has gone stale

romance is bleak
i'm not sure what to say
care is obsolete
love is incomplete

music is all i'm good for
and that's not even enough
so i sit here on the floor
begging them to shut the door

well, since there is no end in sight
maybe i will end this here
if i may and if you might
turn away if this gives you fright

Mental illness is rising
psychologists's career are booming,
social media is redefining
making it a beautiful suffering.

Sadness has become boring,
misery has become enchanting.
Scars have become beauty,
grief has become engaging
and depression has become alluring.

Emotions have become art,
heartbreak has become a heart wrenching song.
pain has become poetry
and mental illness has become
edgy-tending label.

When did they start to disguise agony
behind such beauty?

We don’t put a label on it
Because we don’t want to fit
And commit.

We keep it fun and chill;
Nothing serious
No consequences
No future
Nothing romantic
Trying to keep it platonic.

Doesn’t it sound ironic?
Because I am frantic
About you, boy.

Trying to be ice cold
Pretending we are something,
when we’re nothing.
I am losing my mind.

You play these games
Trying to make me insecure
About all these other girls.

So I play along
Because it’s love,
Maybe not long lasting
But real.

But we’re just spiraling
No end; not infinite
I guess I can not pretend
For I don’t want to be this type of girl.

I want to us to burn;
Our hearts to yearn
Our souls to learn.

I want attachment,
Security and stability.
I want it to be long lasting
And not a temporary fling

I'm talking about a record label that was founded a long time ago.
It was founded in the early seventies and the label was called RSO.
They were once a very successful corporation.
RSO stood for 'Robert Stigwood Organization'.

When it came to stars like Andy Gibb and Eric Clapton, RSO managed their careers.
RSO was founded in 1973 and sadly, the record label ended after just ten years.
They also managed the careers of Yvonne Elliman and the Bee Gees.
RSO manufactured records about 'The Empire Strikes Back' and 'Return Of The Jedi' before dissolving in 1983.

In 1980, the Bee Gees slapped RSO with a two hundred million lawsuit.
There was a settlement for an undisclosed amount that ended the dispute.
In 1983, many people hated to see them go.
The world is a better place because of RSO.

sticky walls hug my heart, forever closing in
I'm trapped inside, secretly I
never felt my skin

neither have I ever felt the entrails of another
the very core the center most
all just seem like covers

for some, of course, this isn't true, and great respect to that
but I have no word for myself
I simply am abstract

over time
aspects will adjust some
I never feel the same two days
never like the same two names
and thus, my gender's Custom