words are strange things.
they're sounds we give meaning.
and when strung together a certain way,
they suddenly create mind boggling results.
seas of beautiful people suddenly turn sour,
mountains of angry humans turn around and pick flowers.
words are different everywhere you go,
and some words aren't even spoken with a voice
but rather a hand
its nice, i think
that we all give meaning to such sounds
they act as either a leash to pull you in
or a wind to blow you out

I am feeling great
Can’t get this smile
off my face
The sun is shining bright
There is a light inside my eyes
But once you look behind
This imaginary life
You can see
It’s all just a lie
I’m not feeling great
I am filled with hate
There’s no longer a light
In these dead eyes

tonight I just want to tell you how I'm lonely
how I'm here worse than I thought I was
so instead I grab a blanket and some cigarettes and fake a smile and force myself to be cool
loneliness is a ****** thing
creeping up when I didn't ask it to
like unpaid bills and shoulder pain
how can I be frustrated and sad when I never asked you to stay?
I just continue to do this to myself
open up my heart, confuse happiness with temporary bliss and stumble into a mirror only to see my aching soul screaming back at me
I wonder sometimes, like I have for years, if this feeling will ever go away
if I will ever be able to truly tell myself,
I'm okay

it’s okay to not be okay.
you can say what you want.
But it’s just not your day.
You can say you fine,
but you know it’s fake
people ask what the want and you smile and wave,
but for their sake
you try to be positive.
Which sometimes hurts.
but sometimes there is the flicker
of happiness and laughter.
But when it’s over you realize.
you’re alone.
And you’re not okay.
And that’s okay.

You'd melt me to a puddle,
And stomp through me in boots,
Then politely clean me up,
No wonder I was confused.

A small collection of water,
Weak and backless with no voice,
Stomped through, walked on,
I forgot I had a choice.

Once a passive puddle,
But now I am the rain,
Do you know what rain erases?
The flame.

No more power over me,
I'll choose when I fall,
And by fall I mean pour,
And by pour I mean stand tall.

I didn't want to hate you,
but I'm trying to accept that I do.
There's no way we will fix this,
you're not the right personality type to.