It's confusing.
That's what I tell them,
And it is the truth.

I don't understand why,
When I am with you,
I feel warm in the darkest parts of me.

Your arms,
They feel like a pitched tent
In a thick forest,
With the campfire crackling.

It's easy to tell you the scariest moments of my life
And that I prefer snakes over spiders.

I want you to tell me about what it was like growing up.
How you aren't there yet.
I want to hear about your dreams.

*I want to make you feel like home.

You know that feeling
That terrible feeling
Unable of healing
When something happens
Every once and a while
That changes everything
And you can no longer smile
Nothing can be the same
And there's no one to blame
All you had
Is now gone
It went all wrong
Tears pour
Remembering the past
And all those good times
At their last

They say
if you do not act normal,
then you are crazy.

They say
if you act differently,
if you think differently,
if you talk differently,
than others...
something is wrong with you.

We feel as if we should act
a certain way every day
when we wake up.

Yet we have the freedom
to act any way we want.

If I go around yelling
anything I want
they'll take me away
and diagnose my wrongness.

Then if I begin
speaking the way they want me to,
acting the way they want me to,
they will say,
"Oh so you were just pretending to be crazy?"
And I'll reply,
"Pretending?"

"I was just being free."

My parents tell me
"Watch out.
Most poets
Go crazy
And **** themselves."

What if I am
Crazy,
And I'm already
Dead
Inside?

They tell you to let go
But they never tell you how

You hurt me
in the most
beautiful ways