The burden of making something out of my life is ever present in my mind
Talking, talking, I don't give a **** about your speeches
You're too stubborn. Listen to your elders.
We only do this because we love you.
Anxious to please, anxious to follow my own mind. What comes easy to me.
I have no idea where I'm heading.
A journey to the abyss or  nirvana
Maybe I'm not normal
All I know is that I can't conform.
I'm not obedient.
I'm not a pillar of society.

Floating in my dreams
Singing in my head 
Dancing in the rain
Running in mud
Screaming to feel free
Loving to be me
Writing passionitly
Rebel at night
Winning my own fight
Xbox all night
Living until I die

Sometimes you feel like a badass,
Walking around no worries,
No cares, no concerns, nothing
You carry everything except hope
Inside a black backpack.

Sometimes I think that
Going home and running away
Are one and the same
Why choose both?
When a loving family is there
Waiting for you at the end of the day,
Can you ask for anything else?

Sometimes being a rebel
Isn't all it seems to be
And you find foolishness
As a wish for childhood
Even if for just a minute.

Jackal in his church pants,
Bad kid with punk jams,
Cramming nonsense in his conscience,
Skateboarding prophets,
Dividing light into chambers,
Bag of **** for his neighbors,
Turned into a living demon bleeding thru the paper,
Applesauce in the inside,
A coconut shell for the front,
Pineapple knives for the slaughtering,
Right into a strawberry's gut,

He was not a normal scorned, occulting youth,
But the lore of a regretful teen plaguing the afternoons,
Till that strawberry gut cracked his coconut noggin,
And shall he rest in bygones and Hanna-Babara monsters,

The true is right here in the details
She feeds off of what fails
Try's to rebels
For she leaves unmarked trails  

Nobody knows who she use to be
But you see,
the glaze in her eyes is a often disguises
She likes to minimize problems,
Or often hide them
She stands by what's wrong
Instead of right
Others often consider her soul out of sight

She says she might have changed a little
But others say a lot
For she's often caught up in the little trail of dots
She's says I love myself a lot,
she thought it would be easy to rebel,
But it's like hell
Her smoking **** and taking pills,
she says it kills

For she wants to change
And is hoping to start today
She wants to start a new trail,
And knows it won't fail.

I was your Hazel Grace
Because I thought I was a grenade

I was in my final year in high school when I started liking you
And soon I would leave the same school we were into

I, and the people around us
We became dependent of your actions
And you made us believe that you liked me, too

So much depends upon this boy I really liked
behind his eye glasses were his eyes that had
always been sending me love letters
that I always wanted to reciprocate
his stunning smile made him look grand every time

So much depends upon this rebel heart
that I was ironically obedient to
Because not granting what this heart wanted
would **** me a hundred times

Until the day came that I needed to leave you
I thought leaving would hurt harder than a heart break
But you were the one who left
And that was when I started believing
that I was not the grenade I once thought I would be
but it was you

*You left me wounded

You wanna know what it's like
to be a rebel?
You wanna know what it's like
outside the salt circle
looking in?
I tell you what, I'm not dancing
as much as flailing.
Fitting enough, I am crashing
again the closer
that I get.
You wanna know what it's like
to be the other?
You wanna know what it's like
to live as if you were
not dead but
wholly aware
in stasis?
Holy stasis,
what is it like
to be alive
unmoving
and empty,
dry of passion?
I better tell
this bitter truth,
that being you
isn't worth
half the strength
you generate.

I tell you what, I'm not dancing
as much as flailing.
Fitting enough, I am crashing
again the closer
that I get.
You wanna know what it's like
to be the other?
You wanna know what it's like
to live as if you were
not dead but
wholly aware?
I would trade wealth
and mental health
for just a touch
of the sand
containing
what has gone lost.

Just a touch,
I want your hand.

What's it like to be the metronome?
I tell you what,
I dance a lot.

Walking alone along the street,
He wears the headphones like a crown.
Too proud; he doesn't smile to greet
Any chance soul he happens to meet.

His heart skips a beat; that song -
A key to memories from an era bygone.
He takes out his phone, turns it on,
Wishing for a message or a missed call;
Nope, no such luck...no luck at all.

No metaphors required, its as clear as day
He has to do this, there's no other way,
Lost in translation, he can't find
Words to speak out his mind.
Her goodbye is still fresh in his memory,
His goodbye fresher still in his mom's.

He wears his crown with pride,
And keeps walking with a nervous strides.

Rebellion
Rise my dear friends,
Stand up and fight.
Not for yourself,
But for what makes things right.
We endured the pain,
For far too long.
Letting them win,
For only their gain.
I had enough,
And so have you.
I will fight,
And so should you.
One cannot,
Do alone.
But fight together,
We'll own the throne.
So let us rise,
And start healin'.
We need to start,
Our own rebellion.