What I found really ironic
Was that my head teacher stood up in front of us and said
“I know what you’re thinking and why you’re thinking it;
Because you’re teenagers and therefore you think you know everything.”

And I wonder if he ‘knows’
That every day I question
The conversations
Between constellations
And the persistence
Of my selfish existence
And I wonder if he ‘knows’
That every day I question
What colours we choose for crying
And what I gain from lying
And the age at which it became OK to play pretend games again
Or whether we even ever gave them up.

And I wonder if he ‘knows’
That what he’s said is ironic
Or if he really thinks he made a good point.

Everyone loves the poems that hurt me the most. It's little wonder that the greatest writers, the ones whose works we lovingly praise, were merely lost, broken fools.

All the mistakes I made in the past
They follow and chase me down my path
I'm trying to let them go
But they won't leave me alone

Errors and misunderstandings
These two words I cannot fathom
They keep pulling me down
And closer to the ground

See Me

there’s always the sad fiction of not wanting
whatever it is one needs, but let’s just say
we miss our opportunities for lack of bravery
fearing rejections, we turn our faces away

misinterpreted words and glances
cast shadows over the day
when wishful love draws forth a sigh
boredom is all you hear

the moment passes us by
words spoken with an open heart
are only heard as a trap
hopes and dreams fall apart

this is my want, my need
my wish, my desire, my dream
look into my eyes, see me clearly
see what I am, not what I seem

Constantly craving a crazed
Escape
Fleeing reality, piece by piece
Aware the immortality
Isn't an option
Never ceasing to seek
Release

Questioning other's
Translucent translation
Of a world that centers
All of us each
Construals clashing, creating division
Misunderstandings at war
No point in speech