You tell me that I fail you
I feel like a success
You tell me that I am nothing
I am nothing but a beautiful,
Hot mess

the shadow of loneliness
is slowly drowning me in the air.

too hard to bear,
considering i’m a mess.

my hair will not spit sparks if you brush it
it will cling onto your hands
the brush
your shirt and shorts
the ones that ride up against your thigh
my hair will not curl lovingly around your fingers
it will grab onto anything put through it
it will keep you here
a part of me forever, the way it should be
my hair will not remind you of flames
but maybe of a lion
though easily tamed is it when
it's sprawled across your lap
your nails gingerly scratching my scalp
no
my hair will not cascade down my back
ever so gracefully masking the scars from my past
teasing you in its waves
it will claw against my spine, it will dare you to draw near
my hair will not remind you of an ocean
spread out so perfectly as I run,
molding against a perfect sunset
it will be a beast, sneering at you
luring you closer, begging to be chased
it will make you its prey
no
my hair will not be brushed out
my favorite knot will be entertainment,
lack of motivation in its calligraphy,
you see it as a cry for help,
it is my declaration of power.
my hair will not spit sparks when you brush it.
it will be the forest and flames all in one,
and when you're choking on the smoke,
you'll remember that hair is power.
to touch it is to drain it.
so
I empty all
into your talons
because my hair will remind you of a monster
and your breath will be its leash.

Hey, I’mamess
Can I have a moment with you
Don’t you know that you’ve been looking like the world is against you?
Well, ya know
I’m just curious what the hell are you going through?
If you wanna talk, just tell me
I’m all ears for you

Hey, I’mamess
So you’ve been feeling stuck
And you can't figure out what’s causing you to feel like that
Could it be your mom, your dad, your grandma, or pa?
Or maybe it's just yourself
Oh, I guess that's that

And now you’re telling me you also feel uninspired
And you can’t even write a song, a poem, or anything that rhymes
Singing is now boring and your fingers are tired
Tired of playing the same tunes almost every night

Hey, I’mamess
I heard you know God
And you’re telling other people about His great love
I must say, it’s a good thing and I salute you for that
But now you’re telling me you’re a hypocritical wing nut

Hey, I’mamess
You are indeed a mess
You’re an unproductive, recalcitrant, idiotic wreck
But hey, I’mamess
A lot of people like you
They appreciate your talent and the things that you do

Lastly, I’mamess
I think the world is not really against you
You are a mess because you criticize you