I've come to realize that the world is a terrible place.

It'll tear you into shreds and every single piece of your soul, until you are left with nothing.

Good things happen to bad people.

Bad things happen to good people.

The world is a cool, harsh, rude place.

And sooner or later, everyone just has to learn to live in their own world.

For that is the only way that someone can be happy.

Genuinely happy.

So as you reducible me for being strange, and not fitting in, I am happy.

You aren't happy.

So get over it.

Same love

I'm scared.
I'm scared that my dreams will become better than my reality.
I'm scared that the sun will not rise one day and I'll live with the creepy things that lurk in the dark.
I'm scared that I won't fall in love.
I'm scared that I have fallen in love but it just wasn't as great as people have made it seem.
I'm scared that my future is already planned for me.
I'm scared that I might have complete control over it.
I'm scared of how I feel and who I am.
I'm scared of people finding out too much about me because I feel like being an open book is the equivalent to being uninteresting.
I would much rather be mysterious.
I'm afraid that I ask too much.
I'm scares that I just let people walk all over me.
I'm scared I'm too nice and rude.
I'm afraid that I'm not afraid of reasonable and common things.
Like spiders. Or heights.
I'm afraid that I am too independent.
I'm scared that I am too comfortable with the idea of being alone.
I'm scared that you are scared of me.
I'm scared that I might not be able to help.
I'm scared to live.
I'm scared to die.
I'm scared that there is a god and I just disappoint him daily like I do with my parents.
I'm scared that I laugh at my own pain.
I'm scared that I don't cry.
I'm scared of what I don't know.
The "unknown".
I'm scared of the dust that collects on things I neglect. I feel like I am neglecting memories that do not exist.
I am afraid that every one lies.
I'm scared to be who I really am.
I need to come out.
Ive been hiding with the skeletons.
Now I am coming to realize who I am.
I've been watching through the slits in the door for too long.
I am going to come out and be myself.
This is who I am.
And if you can't catch on then maybe you shouldn't know.

Just thinking

I've learned so much out here.
Like how 30 year old men find me attractive .
Like how both of the ones that have told me they do have grabbed my butt like its nothing.
Or how stu our friend, he's not like who I thought he was and now he wants to move out here to be with me..
The worst part is I don't know if he's bluffing.
Or how you don't want to speak to me even if I am on the other side of the country.
I've discovered who I am and I think that I'm a slut,
Because every day I have a new guy grab my butt
And all I say is "let's keep it simple"
Or "for now we're sweet and innocent" like they possibly have a future with it.
My whole self has changed and now I realize that you want nothing to do with me
Or how I walk, talk, and breathe.
Obviously you're too good for me.
But out there in the Deseret where all your days are spent alone,
That's what everyone thinks.
Perfect church run by imperfect people?
No that's not right.
They're both not perfect and they both teach the same thing.
To judge other people like there is no tomorrow.
Not a single soul I know in they're right mind would disagree with me.
So you enjoy your sweet talks with women who are looked down upon.
Women whose ancestors fought for their freedoms but they don't get to have them.
You enjoy the fact that only men can give blessings
Or speak with the god that they say is up in heaven.
Your god is not mine because in my eyes,
Both men and women can accomplish the same things.
They both can speak to god in a one on one conversation.
They both can have a job and get an education.
So maybe it's just me but you know if you really want to leave for the church that degrades me,
Instead of love me be my guest.
Just know that I won't sit here waiting for you in the end
Especially when you can't even say "hi" back to me,

Just because you want to repent to be a missionary.

Everything I Came For

My Shallow breathing has made me light headed.

The storm outside has made the childish side come out of me.

Hair wet.

Tears forming.

I stare and watch all the crows fly above me,

As I swallow down my medicine.

The spider bite is now purple and scabbed over.

The bruises are disappearing.

And the one thing that still hasn't changed,

Is that you are the one I still want to keep close.

My hair has frizzed up and turned on me.

My dreams are much too big for me to be happy.

I've been chasing after them for far too long,

I can hardly believe that they are almost in my reach.

Where will I be?

Ten years from now,

Will I still want kids?

Will I still love the rain,

Hot tea,

And dark concepts?

Like zombies or crows.

Will I still want to grow up to become an artist?

Or will I strangle the life out of that dream,

As I sit here typing,

Day after day,

Just waiting for some feed back?







Will you ever be able to find me?

Now that I've changed my number,

My looks,

My address,

And my tastes?

Will you even look?

Or is that too over rated?

Well who cares.

Maybe I don't want you to find me anyways.

Who am I kidding.

Of course I do.

I think I'll become a designer.

Or maybe an English teacher.

Even I don't know myself so how could I expect you to?

Nothing is coming out like how I wanted.

So I'm just going to cut the bull shit,

And shut my mouth.

Just thought you should know

Draw back the bow string,
Shot lined up perfectly,
And the Violins begin to sing
As you move your arm back and forth.

I sway from side to side
In the hands of fate
That have me locked between her fingers,
Trapped.

I think of what I've done,
What I will do,
And how hard it will be,
Not for me but for you.

The tattoo on my shoulder stings,
Reminding me that the flying birds
Are there to help me feel free.
But am I free? Or am I trapped?

My closet is full of skeletons.
I put them on every morning
And strut around when they should be hidden,
I should be afraid.

My 100 dollar sunglasses rest on my head,
My 2 dollar coffee sits on my nightstand,
My new iphone in hand,
And my mind is filled with only you.

I am so free.
So happy.
So scared.
And not ready.

I'm afraid I will only upset you if you saw me.
I'm afraid that you will take one look at me,
See right through me,
And realize that your time has most likely been wasted.

You thought I was perfect.
You thought I was pure.
You thought I was open.
You thought I was everything you could've ever wanted.

I have always known that you are too good for me.
That I don't deserve you.
But I could never fully convince myself
To let you go.

At the end of it all you're still my best friend.
But you know that we are not moving in the same direction.
I'm going down as you continue to rise.
So break out the champagne.

18 and already thinking of my 21st.
How they are planning it,
Like it will be everything you would see on a silver screen.
And honestly I can't wait.

My nails are done.
My hair is curled.
My clothes are expensive.
My breath is cold.

I am no longer who you knew,
Once upon a time.
I am now being me.
I am now free.

My Only Wish

For the longest time, I didn't want to speak to you.
For weeks I thought it would be too hard,
Either that or much too easy.

You my friend, that is no longer here, are what every action,
Every thought,
Every thing that I do revolves around.

Every time I need to make a decision I always ask,
what would he think if I did this?
What would you think?

I look at myself in the mirror
And all I can think about is how empty and sad I look.
How dark my eyes have become.

There has and always will be the doubt
That will forever rest in the pit of my gut.
The doubt that tells me that you have forgotten.

Forgotten about me.
Forgotten about you.
Forgotten about us.

When I see the only picture I have left of you
I cry.
Because I feel like you are lost.

I feel as though my heart will never heal.
But I worry more about your own health,
Than mine.

Are you well?
Are you safe?
Are you happy?

I wish I could sit you down.
Place a huge plate of your favorite food down in front of you,
And just simply run my fingers through your hair as you sit there.

Happy.
Safe.
And Well.

I wish I could know.
I wish I could see.
I wish I could fix.

No more

So here's the deal.
I hate this.
I hate having to sit here in bed wondering if I will ever speak to you,
or see your smile,
or hear your laugh.
I hate having to sit here knowing that the chances of "us" are slim to none.
I hate that I didn't get to say good bye.
I hate that I can't hold you.
I hate that I hear about other girls.
I hate that I know about other girls.
I hate knowing.
I hate love.
I hate this.

I'm only 18

One step closer to becoming an adult.

My slippers won't fit anymore.

The tiara will only look silly.

The dress up box will have to be thrown away.

The multi-color nail polish will be removed.

My hopes and dreams spin in circles down the tubes.

Blood and sweat is what is to come. Not my own of course.

My knee high boots will need to be broken in.

My hair is pulled back for ultimate efficiency.

My closet only holds leather skin tight outfits, I must look professional.

My finger nails are neat and french tipped with a kit I bought for 5 dollars.

The gig is up.

The guns are drawn.

Let's get out there,

and kick some Zombie butt!

My Secrets

I feel fat just because when I bend over my stomach scrunches up.

I can't sleep when I am stressed or confused.

My first suicide attempt was in 7th grade.

I attempted it 11 times after that.

I used to cut myself, I even became so desperate I used a key one day.

I tell every one that the scars on my ankles are from soccer.

My happiness is dependent on the amount of love I feel from other people.

Right now, I am experiencing little to none of that.

I believe everything every one tells me about myself that is negative and store it in my heart.

Ugly, stupid, waste of space, not worth my time.

I believe in God but I don't think that the LDS church is right for me.

I hate texting.

I cover everything up with, "I'm fine."

I feel worthless.

My life, is worthless.

I've wanted to be a vet since I was 5 or 6, but I gave up that dream because of my patriarchal blessing.

I have PTSD.

I hate crying infront of people so I smile instead. I just laugh it off.

When I was in seminary one day, and I was losing everything around me, I went into the bathroom and kicked the stalls for a half an hour.

I can't cope without a song that descibes exactly how I feel.

I wanna cry- Keith Urban.

I haven't ever had the desire to become great.

I just want to blend in.

I would rather be single than have my heart broken anymore.

I sucked my thumb until I was 11 years old.

I pick my fingernail polish off when I'm depressed.

I play video games, and yes I do enjoy them.

I'm almost positive that if I was tested they would tell me that I have ADD and dyslexia.

I've never been bullied at school, but home is a different story.

I've been kicked out of my house.

I've lied to the cops and have been caught doing it.

I can't ever put what I'm feeling into words.

I think I can't because I've never done it before.

I used to sleep under my bed when my parents were fighting.

I've never gone home in search of a sanctuary.

I don't believe in love anymore.

I knew that my last relationship was going to end from the begging but it still hurt.

I love my name.

I'm never satisfied with anything I do.

I'm not a virgin.

I don't want to get married or be in a relationship with some one but I want kids.

Adoption it is.

90% of the time, you could find me crying myself to sleep.

This is the life no one knows.

My Regrets for the Loss of Perfection

Like I've said before.

Life is too short to care at all.

You know how many times I have given up on everything?

How many times I've wanted out?

How many times I stayed anyways?

Now you say that you are through.

That it's not me, but you.

Well I believe that when ever some one says that they mean the opposite.

So screw you.

You were never here for me anyways.

Never listened to a word I spat out but wanted me to listen to you.

Do you know how lonely it gets crying yourself to sleep

and your pillow is the only one that will hold you?

My face is stuck in a scowl because I'm angry.

Angry that I believed you when you said,

"I love you" or "Always and Forever"

Angry that to you, I am no longer worth fighting for.

I am crying because I'm hurt.

But like you said, we all have to face reality sometime.

No one is invincible.

And even though these tears are falling,

I won't cry tomorrow or the next day.

Or even the day after that.

Only because every tear a woman cries because of a stupid man,

counts against him in heaven.

And I wouldn't wish the wrath of God upon my worst enemy.

So enjoy your many days you have left of your ignorance.

Now, I can do what ever I want so it's freeing in a hurtful kind of way.

Drink coffee every morning if I want.

And I could even go to the strip club if I wanted, but I can't stand the germs.

Where I go with my life is now my choice.

I refuse to let you run it anymore.

So like you said, see you in three years.

Don't worry, I won't reply to your whinny text messages.

Or your "I'm sorry for my arrogance" phone calls and voice mails.

Enjoy college. Enjoy life.

Enjoy the wonderful sunshine above you.

Because when we do talk in 3 years, I can guarentee you something.

And that's that by that time,

The rain clouds will have moved from over my head,

to yours.

Cough Syrup

I will never say this to your face.

I will never open up and let it all out because I am too afraid of what you might think of me.

I am hurt.

I walk around aimlessly everyday only to find out I travel in circles.

I can feel it coming.

I can hear it in every broken smile.

Coming out behind shattered lies of "I'm fine" and "I'm sorry."

Every aching ring of the phone only reminds me of the distance in physical and untouchable miles that have formed between us.

I box myself up just a little more every day.

That box was closed a few moments ago and now all it's doing is turning from cardboard to cold, bitter steel.

The ring around my finger reminds me of what I want but I know that it's not completely rational.

So, "I'm sorry" I stopped talking to you for a moment today.

I just couldn't handle the stress.

And "I'm sorry" I didn't say I love you when I hung up.

I just don't know if I should hold on or let go of that feeling.

The sooner the better you know?

That leaves very little room for a heart break I know I couldn't survive.

I should probably start coming back to reality.

But then I realize.

Life is too short to even care at all.

Carbon Copy

One skinny model walks past the other.

The mask of one is falling apart.

The other is held together.

Neither one knows the others name.

But the one who is crumbling is hiding in shame.

Too long.

I don't do stories.

I do songs.

I don't say yes.

I say no.

I don't laugh when it rains.

I think of why the sky is so sad.

I don't dream.

I live.

I don't sleep.

I wander.

I don't eat.

I don't drink.

I burn up in the sun and turn into ashes.

This is what I am.

Though I know that you hate and so do I, it's something I've learned to live with.

But can you?

Answer me. Will you?

Or is that too much to ask.

How to dance

I let my bird fly away today.

I woke up and heard her chirping outside so I went to see the joy in her eyes.

She was mimiking the other birds and wanted to be free.

I sat there for awhile, I am almost certain I was still half way asleep.

Then I saw that I was the bird and my home was her cage.

She was hopping on the door wanting to join the other free birds.

So I opened her door.

She took a second to see if I really meant it and then saw in my eyes that I did.

So she took flight and flew around my house a couple of times, singing out with joy.

I know that she is going to die, but at least it will be a happier death than if it was just in her cage.

True story.

One day at a time

Sometimes I wonder if "sanity" is ever an appropriate word for use.

In fact the only time I've heard it was when it was coming off the wagging tounges of women talking about some one who has some how miss placed it.

My sanity was washed away and floated down the drain along with the blood that it spilt.

So I welcome you all to the show, though there are no two headed beings or thin and lanky bodies that can bend into unimaginable positions, I stand here mumbling to myself.

You may think that it is all fun and games, but little do you know I am speaking to you.

Of you.

All about you.

You and your hidden passions that you think no one can see.

All the stains on your clean and pressed shirt remind me that it is not I that has lost it all.

Or maybe they remind me that I truly am insane.

But I tend to believe that my friend who is always there is real.

Though I've never been able to reach out and feel her fingers intwine with mine.

The picture that hangs in the corner is shadowed but yet I can still see his eyes shining down upon me.

A smile perks up on my lips as I imagine his, but it is something I will probably sit here missing for my whole life time.

Never to see those eyes or strands on his head again.

Looking up at the red and white stripes that make up my ceiling, knowing that I am stuck here.

All I am needed for is entertaining others, but it is not what I want.

My friend appears out of the smoke that has blown in and I begin to talk of how much I miss him.

She tells me to shut up and to stop complaining.

To let it go.

I reach out one last time to grab her hand but it shatters and cuts me like a broken window.


The sting only reminds me even more of his warm and embracing grasp I once felt.




How he was real and she never will be.

It's over

The last days are always the greatest.

But they are also the ones that hurt the most to look back on.

I'm leaving Paris and moving to California.

I can't wait to be where I know that I belong.

But I can wait to leave somewhere I don't for some reason

I've been sitting here for hours waiting for a voice to tell me what to do.

It seems as though it is sleeping on the plush pink brain inside that is too small.

I'm a little out of tune as I sing because it's asleep.

I have to remember that just because the people tell me I'm useless doesn't mean I am.

The blisters on my fingers tell me stories of pens pressed too hard ripping the paper.

This is it.

My toes dig into the sandy beaches because this is where I root myself.

The waves crashing try their best to knock me down but I am too strong.

Though I remember being a child screaming as they took me out into the ocean.

I know better now though

Everyone now knows my story, but I will continue to tell it.

I think the next part that roles around is marriage and uncertainty

I am not sure whether or not I would rather be hit by lightning or stung by a million bees

They would be shocking just the same.

Bees like honey and honey is sweet so maybe I'll pick that.

But lightning is more forceful and is generated with rain.

I like the rain more so lightning it is.

Who are you?

I am a very average teenage girl that is told to have an old soul.

It's only like that because I didn't get to experience childhood.

I was handed a child at 6 years old.

I compare myself to Red Riding hood almost on a daily basis.

I am accepting, understanding, timid, and stubborn.

Whenever I look in a mirror, the first thing I notice is my flaws.

That's why I hate mirrors.

I'm in the process of learning that maybe I am not as ugly as I think I am.

I hate my hands, but especially my fingers, so if you decide one day to ask me to look at them I will just stick them in my pockets and run away.

I am a musician at home and a psychologist every where else.

I hate uncrushed ice cubes.

When I am bored and have nothing to do, I lay on my bed and pick the paint off the walls.

I only swear when I am really angry about something.

I am not a morning person.

I hate texting.

I like two pieces of toast with peanut butter and powdered sugar on them as an afternoon snack.

Or breakfast.

Or Lunch.

What the heck let's throw dinner in there too.

Sometimes I get catch myself thinking about things like why we have more fingers than we need.

Sometimes I just think I am the only person in the world who feels at all.

I used to hurt myself physically until I would bleed. I even cut myself with a key once.

But now I'm over that and I replaced it with hurting my self-esteem.

I am the only girl I know that likes horror films but doesn't get scared by them.

I'm afraid of being seen without makeup on.

I stutter occasionally.

I am too serious at times and I never know what to say.

I get distracted easily.

Sometimes I forget that I shouldn't spend all of my time thinking about nothing.

Almost every time I miss hear someone, it is something not worth the risk of repeating.

My favorite number is 6.

I despise the frills on the edges of ripped out paper.

I know how to make hearts out of gum wrappers and that's all I do on Sunday if I go to church.

I like odd numbers more than even ones.

I strive to stand out so I could never live in Asia.

I tend to avoid all confrontation.

When I get stressed my fingers peel and I get canker sores.

I'm detail oriented.

And a perfectionist.

It takes me an hour and a half to get ready in the mornings. And that's on a good day.

I can't focus on two things at once when I am talking to someone but when I start working, I can finish and tell you everyone's conversation topics that are around me.

My favorite color is red.

I'm a little bit of a rebel at times.

But I am- in the end- just your average teenage girl.

An Allegiance Worth Forgetting

I'm in love.


I'm in love with an idea.


The idea that maybe, just maybe, you might be worried for me.


I'm in love with a song.


A song that speaks of being afraid for someone.


I just know they are talking about me.


I'm in love with your eyes.



The same eyes that have the knobs turned half way cold and half way hot.



The faucets that run when I speak of all the things I did this week.



I'm in love with the pain.



Only you know how to make if feel so good and hurt so bad at the same moment.



I'm in love with these notes.



They sound almost as if they shouldn't go together,



But the way that they line up so OCD-like makes it beautiful.



I'm in love with an idea.



An idea that maybe one day, I will never have to know about life and it's joys.



An idea that maybe, just maybe, one day we will all just... disappear.



I'm in love with a statement.

"Never interrupt your enemy when he is making a mistake."

-Napoleon Bonaparte

Distinct Affection

The soil between her toes chilled her to the bone and the moss she lies on soaks in the sunshine from her beaming pale skin.

She listens to the river run as she twirls the flower she picked earlier.

The purple petals spin quickly and create a surreal picturesque scene of wonder and love.

She stands up and runs quickly through the trees.

The wind blows through her hair so softly that it blocks out the sounds of the blue jays singing.

She jumps over the roots that protrudes from the path way she runs down every day and then slows her pace to a steady walk.

She picks the red flowers along the way and creates a head wreath that emphasizes her rosy cheeks and her dark brown hair.

She looks so innocent with her feet dangling from the tops of the trees.

She knows no other world of terror or pain.

Besides the occasional raccoon that comes and steals the apples she picks she knows of no hurtful words or actions.

She is happy.

Until the day that he showed up she didn't know what true happiness was.

She blinks quickly as a shadow blankets her eyes, blocking out the sunshine.

All she can see is his wide eyes and bright smile looking down upon her.

She grasps the outstretched hand and is carried away to a place where the walls were made of planks and souls and the floor is tile that is cold under her hurting heart.

He sets her down on a large bed and tucks her in. Kisses her forehead then leaves her to sleep.

But she can't, because now finally her reality is much better than any dream she could ever have.

She begs him to come back and they sit and talk about each other and how different they truly are until the sun comes up and interrupts the stars.

Established Domain

This is Emilia Gilbreth.

She lives in her own little world that is filled with running through forests in long white dresses and sitting at the tops of trees dangling her bare feet while staring at the sky.

She is the only person who has realized that the reason we stopped checking for monsters under our beds is because they now live inside of us.

She ran away from those monsters and the people who harbored them long ago.

She is happier here in the sunshine.

This is where her family is the buck and his doe and the moss beds are her home.

Where the bears run to her for back scratches and the leaves whisper stories of men with axes and how they were the only ones that got out alive.

One day though her whole world is destroyed when a human comes to her speaking cheap words that came out too smoothly for their own good.

He grabbed onto her and promise to never let go.

He took her home and by then she was walking in the clouds.

She had completely fallen in love with the complete stranger whom she should be thinking of as trouble.

But he isn't.

Will Emilia be with this stranger for the rest of her life?

Has this man been strong enough to run away from the monsters just like she did?

Will she be happy in the human world?

Careful Incision

"Well she hit them with the back of her pistol because they tainted her name and now they'll never think the same."

*He takes a sip of his wine, corners of his lips upturned. He looks towards his smiling wife who is twirling her wedding band trying to distract every one from her flattered rosy cheeks and bright gleaming eyes as she remembers the event.*

"Yes but you should have seen the way that he quickly grabbed the cane from the bucket and swung it behind him and ruined the perfect nose of the man standing behind him. The best part is that he didn't even take a single glance in his direction."

*She dabs the corners of her mouth, recognizing that she is free from the attention he drew towards her earlier.*

"Well, I think that it is time for us to leave. It was a pleasure seeing all of you."

*He stands and folds his napkin and places it on his plate as he stands. She does the same with her napkin and stands after he pulls out her chair.*

*They walk out of the restaurant quietly leaving their guests pleased with the dinner they all shared on this quiet evening.*

"Time to move positions. You do realize that the man I hit that night was that woman's cousin don't you?"

"Yes I did. You seemed like you were getting too comfortable in this town and I've grown bored with it. So I had to do something to change your mind."

"You know sometimes you can be a real bitch."

"Well, it is how it is. You don't need to go throwing names around."

"Names are much less hurtful than what I am about to do next."

*He takes his hand and forms a tight grasp on the knife that was hidden in his sock and plunges it into her back. All the world around her goes black.*

Disregard Our Negotiations

An adrenaline rush

To run a mile.

A kind thought

To be a perfect person.

Out of my Mind

I have too many questions.

Would you mind if I tugged just a little harder?

Held just a little tighter?

Because I don't want you to slip through my fingers dressed in the rings that bind them.

Once you leave I know there will never be an honest word.

I could never feel this comfortable in anyone else's arms.

He interferes.

You've told me that you love that I care but that it's not worth my time.

I know you're right but sometimes I wonder,

Am I addicted to the pain?

I hand my problems to Lady Justice and she weighs out my conclusion.

Happiness feels much better than being stuck to him like the fly in the window sill.

I've spent my nights and days searching the world for what's right here.

I choose you.

Would you mind if I claimed you as mine?

Shared my true feelings and wanted a happily ever after with you?

Taught myself to being kind and gentle so I didn't hurt you, like all the others.

Maybe it's too far fetched..

I think I've finally lost all of my heart.

Naked Existence

You are the butcher and his knife.

You are the old woman's porch and the windchimes that sing sad songs of nostalgia.

However you are not the rain on the coblestones and you are certainly not the dirt between the child's fingers.

It is possible that you are the soles of my shoes.

Or even the clouds that cover the sun on a rainy day.

But I, I am the leaves in the storm drain.

The dollar bill you found in your favorite pair of worn out jeans.

I am the bakery that's still open on sunday when all the others are closed down to rest.

But don't worry, I'm not the smudges on your face or the tears that cleans them off.

I'm not the crooked cane or the ugly creature that lives in your attic.

I'm not the mold growing on the corners of your toast you ate this morning either.

I'm not the curled toes of a ballerina or the sweat that is dewing on the thief's upper lip.

I'm the necklace that is hanging from your pale neck and the lights that glitter inside your precious eyes.

You are the fire burning your crembule and the brick walls that protect the trembling children.

But don't worry, you are still the wind chimes and the old woman's porch.

The butcher and his knife.

I could never allow myself to be the butcher and his knife because that's what you are, my dear.

Emphasize My Interpretations

Is it sad that I've learned to hide my happiness from others so I can guarantee it's safety?

The only reason I do this is so that you can't find it.

Destroy it.

Come, don't lie claiming that you would never do something like that. It's just me! I already know the truth.

The phone that echos with dial up tones yanks at my weaknesses.

Press all the numbers one more time just to know that you no longer exist.

It hurts to be here.

Illusions of bliss flees my mind as the simpleness of life leaks down my red cheeks.

All innocence now covered up with the knowledge you have buried in between my ribs.

The seed you planted has grown too large for it to beat properly. Skipping down the lane it tells me of it's pain the sun has given it. Photosynthesis.

The words you spoke were laced with a poison that dismembers my thoughts and watches them bleed until they are empty and shriveled from the age that only helps them disappear.

The noose around my neck whispers sweet memories that remind me of you.

All the pain your burnt mane and ice looking glass inflicted on my fragile soul.

Why do I care?

Because everyone else tells me they won't.

I'm the only one out there to protect him from the evils of this world.

If I'm the only one taking the blows his words bruise me with, I am that much happier.

I stumble in a world of cannibals that want to crack your head open like a watermelon, but I won't let that happen to you.

I can take the bullets. Not you.