The girl hums happily, stitching the ragdoll back together.
Spools and needles lay around her, ready as ever.

Every morning she threads a needle and stuffs back the cotton.
Smiling to herself whilst looping the pretty buttons.

Each night is the same as the young girl sleeps.
The ragdoll awakens and from the bed she leaps.

She tears at her stitching and yanks out the cotton.
Pulls her limbs away and prays to lay there forgotten.

But the girl never forgets and at every dawn,
gathers the doll up with a smile and a yawn.

''Oh ragdoll, every night you do the same thing.
Tear yourself up limb from limb.

You don't think you're special or worthy or loved.
At the bottom of every pile of dolls, you've been shoved.

But I will keep stitching you back up until you see,
just how much you really mean to me.'

She was drown to superstars
Shiny cars
Fast lives Slow hearts, materialistic worshippers
Loud mouths, voice yelling hand clappers
Just to get a point a across

Attitude filled reality stars
She idolized, visualized and internalized
Their lifestyles

Just to end up losing her own identity

Consumed by what she idolized she forgot to open her eyes

Blinded by perception, while dying to gain acception

"I will love you forever, whenever you want me to..."

Yesterday, I beat the **** out of a TV with my father's golf club.
The day before that I beat the **** out of myself just thinking about every moment I ever thought about you.

"Surrounded, your blood, skin and pleasure drown me out."

You mentioned holding her hand in the breakroom and my mind couldn't help fleshing it out. The glaring pine tabletop reflecting the shine in her eyes. Her body leaned forward, yours relaxed but arm outstretched, hand curled to cup the outside of hers till she rolls her wrist and you rub your thumb over her knuckles... But I couldn't draw all that. A sketch never hurt so bad.

"I'm not one to be..
three..four..sure but,
Now I,
Now I,
want what you want"

I want to be whole again.

"I don't know how you do it"* man sighed.
"Do what?" pondered nature.

"All this," said man,
"you're kind whilst being cruel
breathing life upon some and inhaling it from others
you're tranquil yet hide a sea of storms inside your chest
you're a contradiction,
with no end to it;"

Nature smiled, knowing eyes gazing upon mankind.

*"A contradiction I may be
in your eyes, yet-
I'm neither kind nor cruel;
Neither benignant nor malevolent.

I simply am.

Then again, she breathed,
What you see in yourself, in your kind;
is what you reflect upon me."

As I step out into the world
A starry night sky greets me
And for some reason
I bump into you

And there, you apologized
Thinking you did something
That I would've been mad about
But no, all I wanted was affection

And there, you told me
How you asked her how she felt
And if she could reciprocate your feelings
And if you had a chance

And you pretended I was her
As you told your story, back hug
As you gently face me, another hug
And then and there, I felt confused

Hers was always the only soul I ever wanted to absorb entirely.
She's the only reason I write weird **** like that.
Before her, I was plain and thought words were just empty sounds breaking through our silence when we felt like.
Before her I thought movies were for entertainment like Insidious or Rambo,
not feelings like The Perks of Being a Wallflower or Blue is the Warmest Color.
Understanding the world was the least of my worries.
But with her gorgeous insightfulness waking me every morning, I'd gotten used to curiosity and enlightenment.
I wanted to feel the world's love and soak in every perfect ending.
I wanted to listen to the voices and grasp the thickness of the meanings etched into their words.
Every laugh I heard I saw happiness.
And when I look at her I feel the entire universe hugging us as we dance along to heartbreak in The Front Bottoms' lyrics.
I want to hear her voice above all others because making sweet love to her and drenching her body with the promise of forever, well that's the one that stands out the most.
And she calls my name like I never dreamed anyone could.
The poetry she reads me is the most imaginative and splendid and I want to write like her.
To put more beauty into my font.
And I try to make the world my muse.
It'll never be as good as hers.
Because everything that ever was, is her muse.
And mine could only ever be her.

it's nice to see
from your point of view
because I possess
less eyes than two

Why do we tend
To act like fools
To be adored by people
Who can't even see our significance.

We always pretend,
But we're nothing but tools.
While we give out our all,
We're just prisoners in their fence.

Until when will we force our pieces,
To fit into other people's grace,
While they just stand and watch,
How we struggle, fall, and shatter.

But I assure you that there is,
Somewhere that we have our space,
We just have to seek and be the perfect patch,
Because in some people's eyes, we wholly matter.