Why do I still try?

This love is like halaal
Everyday a bit of me dies
Whilst it keeps stabbing me
Bit by bit.

Now I feel like
A lone cloud
Drifting away into my paradise
Of filth and dark air.

I am standing on a cliff
And on either sides
I know I will be woebegone.

What do I do?

**How do I tell you I love you?

I am dawn itself
so dark and so hopeful, I'm
only beginning

You words
Curved into a jar tonight.
Your "I love you" is empty,
Your love is hollow
As a jar
Tonight.

People are like shampoo brands.

They have flashy labels,
And colorful packaging,
They list their qualities upfront,
And what they're really made of
Where they hope
No one
Will see.

Shampoo says it goes best
With its matching conditioner,
And we all like to think
Someone else will make us better,
Make us sexier.
Hair products give instructions,
And we're all conditioned
To believe them.

I've never payed attention
To ingredients,
Only read the positive label,
But now I'm finding out what people
Are really made of,
And I'm now looking
For something more natural.

But what about me?
When you leave out the dye
And the bubbles
What am I made of?
I feel like an unknown trade secret,
And you don't even
Want
To know what they put in those.

I've found myself
Comparing brands lately
And I feel like my own falls short.
I feel like a cheap knock off
Masked as main brand...

But am I really fooling anyone?

Strings run from my mouth,
Held by my toes,
I have a hollow feeling in my stomach
Listen to the echo.

My body is carved from wood,
And my insides are hollowed out,
Pull my strings
And listen to me talk
Talk
Talk
About what matters to me,
It falls empty on ears
That don't want me.

You had a blank look
On your eye lids this time.
You've always kept your eyes closed,
But there used to be a painting
Above your eyelashes,
Of whatever you wanted to see,
So introquet
In colorful make up
To make up for what you muddled up
In your brain,
Older sister.

You've never been pleased with me.
I'm not tuned to the sound of your stories
About our family,
We're not broken
In the way that is most convenient for you.

I feel like you've latched on to my strings
That you're pulling on them
As hard as you can
Trying to tear me apart
Because you'd rather see me fall
Than have me be
Someone who isn't what you want.
And yes
My strings
You won't let go of
Are tugging at my brain,
They're attached somewhere
Where I hold fear,
But they won't break.

You can talk all you want
You can lie all you want
But all you'll get from me
Is an echo
From the empty feeling in my stomach,
Because as far as you are concerned
I'm nothing but an instrument
In an orchestra
Who won't obey the conductor
Our father.
So what is my music worth,
If you won't listen?