Your method of parenting does not work.
You can't deprive a plant of light
and expect it to grow.
So why do you deprive me of happiness
and expect me to not drown
in sadness?

I hugged the thought of you,
         but the bruise's still hasten
the reflection of me in the mirror.
Was this me, or was this the naughty
boy you told me I was,
                          without a word spoken.

Can I only fall so many times?
          I'm always  tripping over your insecurities?
Why would I be your anger vocalized
on my features
                     never the face.
Where reality sinks in,
showing your guilt,
hidden under a cloth of  luminous pain.

It shines in so many colours that ache when
                                                   ever they arise.
Some shades deeper than a reflection,
             and I weep on those rainbows inside,
for nothing is bright,only shades linger.

I was never the  gold at the end
                              of the rainbow.
You just thought I was the puddle,
trying to forfeit the brightness,
      I was a rainbow that shined,
                   in the pain of your misgivings.

I was too immersed, in love with the idea of love.

My intellect drowning in the fascination of desire.
The ideology of you manifesting the adoration I demand.

Instead deceit trickled from your throat, oozed from your lips to plug my eardrums.

The bitterness of trickery fresh on your tongue for me to taste.
Ignorance played on repeat, rehearsing the sickly sweet tune you once sang.

An epiphany of misconception. The creator of my contorted heart, over dreamed daydreams.

I was in the twilight of my life, and the charming person I met along the road was my only dawn.
At night, I fall asleep with images of myself, swaying and smiling with them... you
I wished over and over and over again, that smashed yet sparkling me could stop loving you, darling.
I want nothing and everything with you. It completely scares me.
I had nightmares of becoming a beautiful yet tragic poet, but upon meeting you I saw those dreams spread like the billion stars in the night sky.
Honestly, I didn't mind because I know that all it takes is getting all you ever wanted, and then completely losing it to know what you can be.
Years of being on a never-ending world journey and my memories of you were the only things that persisted me, and my only blissful moments.
When the people I used to live around discovered what I have been doing, and whom I have been kissing, what I’ve been drinking, and how I'd been living, they asked me, “What the hell are you thinking?
However, there's no use to talking with people who have a home.
Every experience was fire itself and that terrified me yet helped me obsess for freedom, dear.
These faint-hearted mice do not know what it's like to find safety in other people - for ‘home’ to be wherever or whomever you want.
I want an honest compass pointing me anywhere but I have an indecisiveness inside me that is as wild and wavering as the sea.
I always had this fiery madness intimately inside me it dizzied me and then you tossed gasoline on it and it dazed me.
I think I was born to be the other woman.
The woman that belongs to everyone and no one at the same time, merely emptying herself to please others.
But then I start to believe that I am my own woman. And that wonderful tease in control and loving the war I created with myself.
I adore being the unrequited one in particular. You are my coffee but I feel like the mistreated coffee machine.
Thank you for my dreamy blues.

It isn't a game.
But one can definitely lose.
There are no competitors.
Yet self comparisons fog hind sight.
Leading to more dreary backroads that the world forgot about.
It was fun for a little while.
Telling yourself that you threw away the world and not vise versa.
Was truly the greatest lie.
One that grew into actual belief for a time.
But found that the greatest hell.
Is watching your paradise burn.
Bound only by disbelief.
Dumbfounded.
It's a shame that when you lose everything.
Somehow your mind is the only thing that stays intact.    
As if those aspects were programmed into humans in preparation for it..
And happiness got the short end of the stick.
Then to further rub dirt into the wound we create hope.
By means of pursuit.
Shakespeare knew the questions.
And left it up to everyone else to answer.
Only as generations pass.
We couldnt be further from any resemblance of an answer.
Let alone know the question has already been proposed.
Writers play with this notion and yield no two pairs alike.
Lifes most important knowledge sadly can only come from experiencing it.
But with the world in such a desensitized state.
The fear of stagnation is becoming the only real possibility.
Preposterous?
No
Predetermined the moment we chose to let others choose for us.
There is no freedom.
Only sacrifice.
Right.

is an egg ever left out of the egg carton?
or a red crayon out of a pack of 24?
what about the right-foot-sock or the left-hand-glove?
no

did the husband ever forget about his wife?
well, maybe sometimes
but i would never forget about you

the group of white sheep
and i the black
roaming around aimlessly
searching for friendship
for an invitation into your bountiful pasture
where you graze day after day
and where i stand on the other side of the fence gazing in
wondering if you'll notice me or my efforts
or anything really

do you notice anything other than yourselves?
can you see over your side of the fence?
do you even want to see?

i am the egg
i am the red crayon
i am the right-foot-sock and the left-hand-glove

do you know what happens to things that are lost?
they are eventually found

Every time you texted me after we went our separate ways
gave me hope.
That was very ****** up of you,
I still wait around and I don't know how to cope.

You absence and silence cut deep into my core.
Deeper than any knife, stronger than any lure.
Though you squeeze my heart
You'll always be the man I adore.

Your touch heats my skin,
Your kiss sets me on fire.
You take only what YOU need,
And leave me burning with desire.

I've been told to be patient and kind
But I'm only an object, aren't I?
So why do people care if I fall and break
And take lives in my wake?

You called again. And I hate myself.
This is how it always goes
Before the second ring
I'm already saying hello.