If god was a real person ,
I'd sue .
For floppy ***** ,
And gaping eye sockets .
Misplaced fat pockets
Stretch marks and paranoid doobs.
For photoshopped pictures
And singles mixers
And never being able to properly chew
My words Before I spit them out
For men that don't ask before they mount
And for all the doubt .
For protesters in front of abortion
Clinics and mimics .
And being more creative without your adoration .
For false salvation .

You could put a bullet through my brain, and I'd still miss you in hell.

She is the beginning
As well as the end
The best part of the middle
Then start over again

The sweet part of the taste
On the tip of your tongue
The wisdom of old
The giggle of young

She is the breeze
That blows in the Spring
The long distance call
That brings you close with the ring

The moment you hear
Someone say yes
She is the mystery
That hides in the guess

She is the hope
That you hold onto
The talk of the town
The brand in the new

The little crease
At the edge of the smile
She's the bees knees
The answer to why

She is all this and
She is all that
When it comes to it all
She's where it's all at

“Pretty”
You start telling us so young
Not even letting us take time to smell
To sniff of the world we’re in
Before you pull it from our fingertips
Leaving us with “Pretty”
Making us weaker than we really are
Just by saying “Pretty”
Making the poor girl smiling, feel lesser
Making her want or even need to be more
Making her uncomfortable in her own skin
Too uncomfortable to breath
To let out the air
In fear of looking fat
Because you said “Pretty”
But you don’t see it
You don’t see the damage that you’ve done
You won’t see it
Because you don’t take the time to look
Deeper than her flawless skin
Deeper than her penciled-on brows
Deeper than her plastic nose
Deeper than her silicone filled chest
And deep into her heart
Her mind
And her soul
To see that her smile is fake
And it’s only there because you said “Pretty”
When she was so young
Not letting her have the time to smell
To sniff the world she was in
Before you pulled it from her fingertips
Just leaving her with “Pretty”

He is a poet
And everybody knows it
Though sometimes they can be a little hard;
He gives them wordings
As easy as is speaking
And does it with pride and truly without regard.

Do you see that rose in my garden? That strange beautiful rose? The one that blossoms in silence?

Oh! She's beautiful isn't she? So intensely beautiful, so silently intensely beautiful!

So, quiet, be quiet, quieter still - lest she withers at our utterances.
And move away, lets move farther away, slowly, a step at a time, lets move away.

Ah! That strange beautiful rose in my garden.