This thought seems to be reoccurring.
Like that stranger you see in the halls everyday,
Yet you don't know their name
Or even a fragment of their story.
This thought has that exact feeling,
But contains a bit more of a sting when it passes
Through my fatigued head.
This thought is of the fairytales  
All forged in my 3am mindset.
A mindset that often strikes me at times
Very distant from 3am.
These fairytales are perfect in every way.
But, as all things do they have a fatal flaw.
They will remain as fairytales.
Stuck in the depths of my mind that will remain
Locked up like the restricted section of a library.
Living a thousand lives just as the characters
In fantasy books do.
Straining to brake the chains and locks
That keep it restricted from the outside world.
Sadly, I am the only one trying to break these chains.
Others say they want to,
But fail to show up during this distant time
Of 3am.

You don't know the true meaning
Of consoling a cup of coffee
Until your seemingly full night of sleep
Leaves you with bags under your eyes
And lonely thoughts in your head.

Your eyes yearning to close,
But your awakened mind refusing
To let the darkness seep in.
Feeling physically drained
and going mentally insane.

Turning to a cup of pleasure
Waiting for the black holes under your eyes
To brighten up without the help of cosmetics
For once.

You know that the dreams
That still haunt you were only fictional.
Yet, the visions still cloud your eyes
With memories of your exhaustion.

So, the cycle will continue with caffeine
As the only remedy.
Coffee Consoling, a helpful thing
For those with no sleep.

A hidden monster erupts from within
Glowing eyes boar into our seemingly thick skin
It's claws slash through our ability to think clearly
It's anger betrays all that we know
It's manipulative ways make us dig ourselves holes
The envy it carries makes everyone seem devilish

Then we look in the mirror
It is a monster, but one of human form
It calls itself jealousy
It is hidden in our eyes as they slowly turn green

If this monster is so bad
Then why do we hide it
It only grows stronger with time
The pigment will soon beam with no subtlety
Soon, we will claim the title of this monster

Sit and wonder if you’ll ever be actual competition for those in the pictures that are flaunted around the internet as the girl next door, but is actually just the neighborhood *****. Look in the mirror, all you see is hatred for the very thing you are supposed to claim as your own, but when others compliment you, you do not condone their pity for the frumpy girl who is just trying to get by on her looks that aren’t even a level 5. You are perfect the way you are  they say as they critique your very existence. Comparing you to the 9’s and 10’s that pass by and wishing they could interchange pieces of you, that you were once fond of, with pieces of them that are as foreign to you as the name brands that make this society tick like the clocks on the wall only driven by the thought of one day reaching perfection.They don’t understand that you yearn for these things, but achieving it is impossible because money doesn't grow on trees and people are the hardest to please. Bold face lies are told when it is said that our flaws are our biggest asset. Tell that to everyone who has pointed them out thousands of times acting as if it is their new found discovery. Acting like you don’t have to figure out how to deal with not being “normal” from the moment you wake up up until you close your sulking eyes. An endless cycle of this matches your endless hope that one day it will all vanish and leave you at peace with the body you were given without say. So, prepare your laugh and make it real because you’re strong remember? Words don’t hurt right? Just pretend not to feel, it’s easy. It’s no big deal.

I am the middle man
But not the one arguments speak of
I am the middle man of people skipped over
The person to my left will always pick the person to my right
Leaving me stuck in the middle alone
Alone to think of why I'm not good enough
Alone to think about how to be the front man
Alone to think about anything
Alone to talk to myself because no one will lend an ear
Lend an ear to the quiet one who wants to speak
I guess I'll lend myself an ear once again

People always say that movies are just fiction.
People say that we shouldn’t listen to their messages.
But, those people don’t know of the feeling that fills me.
The feeling of Romeo and Juliet.
The feeling of butterflies taking flight in your stomach
For the very first time.
This surreal feeling swirls through my head
Even as I drift off into sleep.
Only awakened by the burning in my cheeks.
Quickly followed by the realization that my dreams
Were the only thing filling the other half of my bed.
Then the attempts to calm my restless thoughts
Only make my mind race faster.
Making it impossible to rejoin the calm sea of dreams
That cascaded through me;
Almost as if they were meant to be there.
I have no clue when I will be graced
With the presence of the one that makes these dreams occur.
The presence of the one that comforts me without trying.
The presence of the one that flew away
To a place that I once called home.
So, are movies really fiction?
If so, then I must be in a movie.
A movie full of love and sarcasm.
A movie that I will gladly star in.

Our veins are not filled with scripture
Our bones are not built of steel
Our brains are not hardwired to think the same
Our hearts are not the ones supplying us with love
Our muscles are not meant to withstand the weight of a thousand lies
But our souls are meant to keep us going

Whether your soul is forged from one who was old
Or from one who was but a child
A soul is a soul
It cannot be changed or rewired to please those in this
Unmanageable world

Yearning to say those words,
But not daring to enter those lingual waters.
Being entranced by the soft touch of
Lips to her own
Makes the once fear
Of expressing what is wanted
Vanish.

Except for these few words
Which remain trapped
Behind a closed jaw
And fingers which refuse to type.

The girl filled with stories
Becomes timid.
The girl who speaks of finding something real
Stops in the tracks of these words.
All in the name of losing.

Losing what she thinks is real.
Losing because of the release of what she has concealed.
Losing the thing she vanquishes sleep over.
Losing her realistic shot at happiness.
Losing the muse that sheds light
On her old soul.

Her soul is restless and dark,
Or so it seemed.
A hazy veil is lifted after years of cloaking
The true potential of an individual
That no one truly knew.

This unexpected unmasking
Came as a jolt,
Something electrifying.
It revived the girl's heart.

But still,
The girl sits waiting for a time
To unfasten her jaw and stretch her fingers
To reveal those words

Those horribly whimsical words.