Be careful around poets
For you will read their thoughts
about you covered with figuratives
Which you will consider an art
but a dart at aim it is.

If I could just accept the fact
That I will never be an eagle
Like you,
Whose wings spread so widely,
And whose spirit filled with pride
For all of the things that you have accomplished.
Because who am I compared to you,
A broken-winged pigeon
Who seeks,
Who admires
Your boundless beauty and confidence,
Only to find myself
Intimidated by your presence.

If I could just accept the fact
That I could never soar as high
As you
Who reached their full potential,
And who has been given the honor
Of being one of the most brilliant beings that ever lived.
Because who am I compared to you,
A bird who can only fly
As little
As high
As my small wings could take me,
Disappointing myself
With every stumble and fall.

If I could just accept the fact,
Then maybe,
Maybe I can be just happy as you.

Flap Flap goes the Flappy Bird

Was this the right choice?
Seeing warnings on twitter
Thinking they're all quitters
Thinking you're better
But in reality, you're just as equal as them.

But as the day passes...
Flap Flap goes the Flappy Bird

Seeing your friends play, you start multiplying
Not even touching a pipe and dying
You're on the floor, you're crying
Pressing start over and over again and trying
Knowing your high score is low and start lying
because you know you ****.

But as the day passes...
Flap Flap goes the Flappy Bird

Questions going through your mind
"Why did I die?"
"Did I really touch a pipe?"
"Why do iPhone users only have day while Android have both day and night?"
"Why is it slower on other phones?"
"How do you get past 20?"
"Why do I keep dying?"
"Why do Android users have other colors?"
But the question you should be asking is...
"Am I going mad?"

But as the day passes...
Flap Flap goes the Flappy Bird

Now, the resolution.
Stop the addiction.
Press that "x"
You know its for the greater good.
I know YOU feel the ANGER whenever you die.
You don't wanna risk throwing your phone for that.
Take my advice. DO IT.
Before it ruins your life.

But as the day passes...
You can't.
You can't.
You can't.

Its too late.
Flappy Bird is now part of life.
Even though the anger
The anger that feels like your chest being stabbed by a knife
Hurts you so much
Deep inside you get a little happy...
Knowing somewhere in the world someone trying the same game
Got less than you.
Less than 3, 2, or 1.
And because of this you want to beat more people who **** more than you.

And this should be an achievement
You, state your name, got YOUR own high score.
YOU did it
YOU made it to one pipe or even more.
And if you didn't
Well ***** for you

But as the day passes...
Flap Flap goes the Flappy Bird

I saw galaxies in your eyes
and you left stardust in your footprints
but I keep it in a jar on the shelf above my bed
you're not here anymore but you are
and the voices in my head won't shut up
shut up
shut up
sometimes they sound like you
and they whisper sweet things like good morning and you're pretty
but sometimes they are your mother screaming
screaming
screaming
I can't erase the scars on my skin
maybe I wouldn't have cut my arms up if I didn't shake all the time
sometimes I am numb and empty but seeing blood run down my wrist reminds me that I'm full of pretty colors
other times I feel like I am housing the universe and I  am too small to contain it
there's only one way out and you always said it was bad for me
but it's good for me I swear,
just like the drugs I force down my throat to forget ******
******
******
I can't think or form sentences right now
I am tired and I am sick
in my head
there are monsters in my head and I have not stopped to think
just typing like a machine
I am a robot to my own mind, just repeating
repeating
repeating
sequences like math but it's not numbers
it's swallowing pills or slicing my body into pretty geometric patterns
caffeine is a drug and I am awake even though I feel dead
last night I cried for three hours straight
and I was terrified of not knowing what I was capable of
suicide is not pretty
you can't romanticize it with pictures of ****** wrists and hand guns next to a bouquet of daisies
even though sometimes that's what it looks like in my head.

you are not the smell before rain, you are a ******* hurricane. you tore through every ******* wall I put up and now I'm left with broken pieces of your old coffee mug and ripped receipts with ****** I love you's written drunkenly on the back. my hands are numb but my mind is as sharp as the razor blade that kisses my wrist and I'm cutting up my arms trying to cover up the slashes you left on the inside of my collapsing rib cage but nothing pierces through me the way your ice blue eyes did when I woke up next to you. my head is spinning from brandy and coke and your voice is ringing in my ears and my eyes are burning but I haven't slept in two weeks. I started binge drinking tea instead of liquor and I guess that's a good thing although I'm just poisoning my heart with caffeine instead of my liver with alcohol. maybe I should start reading again but I'm only attracted to the beautiful things that are constantly destroying me.