Those three men
Scared beyond belief.
Scared of what they see at night
Seeing the monsters
Hiding under their sheets.

Those three men
Not sure of who they are.
They skip meals and
Throw up
Heaving fires.

Those three men
Cut and slice their skin
Open wide.
They do it because
Society is making them
Hide.

Those three men
Can never really be.
For what they are
Is really we.

Those three men
Make us up all of us.
Together as a whole,
We are them and
They are we.

it's 11:45 pm
and you're sitting on your bed
your newly cut hair pulled back
and your first experience with fringe
occasionally dancing over your eyelids
the sounds of a tv and your mother teaching herself the clarinet
make it hard to concentrate
on the thoughts in your head
but your inner organs tell you all you need to know
your stomach flutters with a thousand monarchs
your heart soars
and your knees are weak
and you're not sure how you're going to recover
but that's okay
because maybe you don't want to

This time it's not the voices in my head,
This time it's myself instead,
How do I bare?
What do I do?
Why am I so ****** up beyond repair?

I'm sick of feeling
seeing or hearing.
why  would I turn?
to hear that real burn?..
I don't look the best,
I'm sure not a ten,
give me a rest,
I'm stuck in this nest,.
how can I fly if you just make me cry,
why such  a deal  if you know how  I feal...


-  glayz  *welch