One more day
One more chance
Say the word and we'll have this dance

Dear Queen,
Are you real? Or just part of my imagination
Cos lately you've given my eyes an occupation
Staring at you is work, and everyone in the room is employed
That sharp dress cut my tongue out and got me speechless
If the dress could cut my head open and read my mind
The only thing it would see is a reflection of itself
Cos all I think about is you, and you may not be real
But you're true
The silence you cause in the room, when you walk in
People stop talking, its akward.
You're on stage, you steal everyone's attention, like a thief
Attention is really cheap, but not everyone pays attention.
Its crazy right? How a queen falls for a pauper
The only way I could ever leave, is if I ...

Stop thinking.

Yours truly
the boy at the back

prom itself is just an overglorified dance
the after party is where the real fun begins
sitting at the kitchen table of my best friend's house
sipping strawberry margaritas her mom made
then progressing to shots of tequila
and playing shots uno, steadily getting more and more dizzy
until i'm trying to twerk on a wall
and calling my friends to tell them i love them
pretending to be a koala on an armrest
updating my snapchat story so people at other gatherings can be jealous
forgetting how to pull my pants back up in the bathroom
talking to my ex boyfriend for an hour on the phone, telling him
exactly why i didn't dance with him at prom
and that i fingered myself for a boy
and i wanted to tell him and everyone, for that matter, about her
but i didn't because rejection and rumors are my worst enemies
he stays quiet and the only sound left is
my frantic whispering that i hope i stay this happy in the morning
because sober me lays in the deep end of the spectrum of sadness

is
stupid

Wilderness their sight, her brown eyes contain the bright
Universe -- she is a graceful phoenix in flight;
Golems of the golden earth bow to this fire bird;
Two fiery wings spread -- she is the light of the world,
Prometheus's daughter, vanquisher of night:
Withered grass resurrect and bloom do flowers burned
Meaning rejoice! she comes with the warm dawn returned!

I took a hearse to prom.
Not the most conventional way at all.
Not the sort of carriage a prince
Should take to a ball.
My chauffeur drove me.
He was dressed in black.
I suppose a hearse is better
Than my mum’s old Cadillac.

I drove alone to prom.
Said I’d meet my date there.
Besides, she’d be late with all
Her make-up and her hair.
I just had to suit up
And get my tie to sit real still.
Then my father looked me over,
And said; ‘I think you fit the bill.’

So I sat in anticipation
As I drove there to the prom.
But who’d have thought in two minutes
Everything would go wrong.
My father’s an alcoholic, see.
As was my chauffeur.
Because they are the same man.
The man who drove the hearse.

Don't just stand there

and adjust your bowtie

                                   
                                     **ACKNOWLEDGE ME