Oh no have I over slept?
I hope my hair looks ok
Does this outfit make me look bad?
I never look good, why am I trying?
They’re staring at me as I walk down the hall
I heard someone laugh! Was it at me?
What if I give the wrong answer?
Can anyone smell me?
I know my friends don’t actually like me
Why do I question everything?
Why is everything going wrong?
Why can’t I do anything right?
Why was I born?
Why?

Are you asking me out?
Do you like me?
How do you know my favorite color?
Why do you care about me?
Did you want to eat there?
Should I be your girlfriend?
Should I marry you?
So you didn't want to move?
Why can't I have kids?
How come I feel sick all the time?
Do you want to go to the doctor with me?
Are you sure I should start the treatments?.....

Can you live without me?

I don't want to watch
Your blush fade
It's like watching the sunrise
While your friends die
And the palettes
With all your paints
Will eventually stain
Like blood in earth
On forgotten battle fields
Where we kissed
While the sun rose
And I overdosed

Is it sane to question your sanity
Sometimes I wonder what real is

Am I? Are you?
Are my words landing somewhere?
Or did I just imagine it?

How many people did I hallucinate?
Can I trust my thoughts?
Or my memories?

What if this is all a dream?
Maybe I’ll wake up tomorrow to something else
What makes real really real?

Maybe reality is just us responding to our own imaginations

Who do you think you are if you believe that you understand me
That you are able to predict my movements
That you can read my mind
That you feel what I feel
That you like what I like
That you hate what I hate
That my life circles around you
That your life is all about me?
Who do you think you are my friend?

We walk our paths as we step on the road,
No love, no release, just cobble and stone.

We have no direction, no place and no home
Just light stepping on these raging roads

For we are the broken, the angry, the few
Are we really so different, or are we just like you?

Are we so deserving of the distrust and dissent?
Are we really so damaged that we can’t make a mends?

We have tolerance and love, inclusive of all
We have passion and fire, unknown by the fools

We are the young, yet still are the weary
An entire generation screaming, why can’t you hear me?

I wonder many things
When I am left to my thoughts
The words in my mind
A never-ending book of sorts.

But there is one question
That burns through all I know
A fire drowning out the noise
A clutching hand that will never let go.

When will my time come?
Is it a day, a week, a year?
When will my life be gone and done?
I will always wonder when my end is near.

Who will remember my name?
Who will bury me in that grave?
What songs will they sing?
What church bells will they ring?
And would life still be the same?

It is fear that I feel
When I am left alone.
Fear that pushes my to look at my phone,
Checking for messages
That may be a goodbye.
Checking for messages
Before I have the chance..to die.

I wonder many things
When I am left to my thoughts.

But it is that image
Of a coffin and a grave
With me stuck inside
Of the boulder closing shut the cave.

And most painful of all,
Sat watching the fire start to fall,
My dear family and friends,
Waving to the life that fades
In the golden glow that the setting sun sends..

Among a personality contest of constant comparisons,
What is better - becoming rich or being a king?

In a relationship of frequent heart breaks,
What is better - surviving solitude or sacrificing love?

While living in a globe of constant motion,
What is better - staying still or running to nowhere?

For a word bond built on empty promises,
What is better - not making them or not keeping them?

In navigating a world of race and colors,
What is better - being different or learning to be the same?

For a mindset with no attention span,
What is better - withholding information or being forthcoming?

When adapting to local ways of global cultures,
What is better - losing your uniqueness or changing your tradition?

Alas, when the answer is not that simple,
I say - what is better - writing a poem about it or giving a speech?