Part of it was security higher than a mountain,
some of it was trust larger than a desert.
It was natural no matter how scary to see,
and vulnerable no matter how much you laughed
and I sat humiliated.
I said I could do it, it took a crowd to say I couldn’t
after I fell and broke something.
Doesn’t matter what can and can’t be fixed.
It is over,
but I trusted whoever was there
when I made the greatest mistakes
ever.

You cut yourself
you feel the pain
stuck in this cycle
and feel no shame

failing school
your life's a mess
and will soon
be just emptiness

smoking too much
and getting high everyday
I can't stop you
but I know what to say

you don't get help
you need too
if not for anyone
do it for you

Write a song and give it my name.
Write a poem, give it my beauty.

Oh beautiful flower, full of thorns, you so smells good in spring.

Write a song and sing it..
Scream it until you lose the voice.

Soft rose, you are so pretty, but you pricked me the fingers.

Writes this poem, shout it, whisper it.
Writte it, erase it, do it all over again.

So soft and fragile but so dangerous, you touched me and got pricked.

Write me a song and gives it my name.
Not love song honey, write a song which looks like me.

The pretty flower pricked you and now you want to burn her for that.
Boy, looks at what you made.
You want to burn the most beautiful thing that you saw by pride to have found stronger than you.
**Sadness.

You're across the room.
With eyes that spread fire
throughout my body
and hands that devour
my eternal bliss
in a series of fingers,
clashing and tangling
like the jungle that once held
the most ferocious of beasts,
but is now corrupt with the
subjects he once ruled.

*and I don't know if I'm running to
or from you