They say don't cry over spilt milk,
But this isn't just a glass of milk,
This was the best milkshake I've ever had,
Complete with whipped cream and a cherry,
The smoothest blend of cream and sugar to ever meet my tastebuds,
And it wasn't just spilt over, it was knocked out of my hands.
You love someone else
And this is the most difficult thing to digest.
By hearing your stories
My heart quack little less.
All the way long you are the fantasy
But now it all shattered like entity.
When ever you need help
I give it by forgetting everything else.
But now excuse me
As my Fidelity has came to an end.
You walked among the crowd
You rubbed, arm
They did not see you there.
Among the hustle and the flow
the foot traffic to and fro
there you were
Your pain flowing like a waterfall
among the crowd of so many eyes
They did not see you there.
You waited, paused in hope
for not one saw
They did not see you dear.
And you ended all the pain
all the fear is gone
you left the crowd
to finally be alone.
for they did not see you there.
Expect not yourself
To see the world
For the way it truly is
At least at first
Because the world is full of so many things
And people who are ever changing
And the truth behind it all is this
That one day all of these and we
Will be returned to the earth
Returned to the dirt
Or ashes depending upon the preference
sit across from each other
that what makes their hearts flutter
will one day
deplete their tissue boxes
captured in their camera rolls
be wasting space
in their deleted items
one of their dates
an expiry date.
You've expressed you feel a sexual disconnect.
Feel yourself some kind of alien pilot.
What's love in this, this human shell?
What's self-respect, esteem as well?
You're fucking weird and that's okay with me.
You told me for the first time, I'm queer.
That's cool. If I'm your nympho, you're my ace pilot.
You're ace as fuck default, I'm gray ace at best.
Why do we sit this dusty rock ridge between worlds?
If you're one, I've seen this alien's appeal.
The most delicious sight of your skin shown will have to go on ignored. And that's fine. That's fine.
I'm your little nympho.
You're my ace pilot.
And that's fine.
"You will not defeat me,"
from the summit of your lungs
is all over and all done
I want the rain to smother us,
one nose to another
sharing the air
at the corner of Fifth and Couch
I want the silence between us
the rare absence of spoken word
I want you filling my chest
with the bumps that were
lost to view some time ago,
like we share phantom sensations
from before we knew love
"Return my youth to me,"
acid dripping from your tongue
We can sing in song
"Nobody understands" is more common
in my head now than it used to be.
I used to look at it as a stereotype
used to describe teens full of angst
who don't get what they want.
When the whole world looks your way,
you swear they turn and go in another direction.
Well now I think I caught on,
or maybe I better say I caught the cold
that you've been feeling inside,
it's exactly what you've been talking about.
I realized that I just became a stereotype,
so I wince at my mind's own attacks at myself
and I just look down and put on record
that spins mockingly as it repeats
the same old lies to my family and my friends.
Keep walking forward with no destination set,
it's how I've lived until now so why change?
I planned a party to indulge in complaints, so
why was I not shocked nobody else showed up?
I guess all the pity was left up to me.
It's safe for you to guess I left with a full stomach
and rest assured I became twice as bitter.
It's become commonplace in my head,
an old habit renewing it's license
to rain on my parade every chance it gets.
So I continue my path down the road
and grab that record again,
how has nobody caught on to my act yet?
Am I that convincing?
The words I write down
and the things I think about,
they will never reach your ears.
Only to your eyes 'cause I'm a coward.
How could it be any more predictable?
Maybe if they took a look inside
they'd get a surprised look on their face
when they come to find out
that I'm twice as crazy as them.
Or maybe they'd laugh
and try to downplay all my problems
with what I know I thought all along.
"You became a living stereotype."