Your questions have
been selected carefully.

Like bullets in a gun,
they are loaded.

“How are you?”
Shoot me once.

“How’s your job?”
Shoot me twice.

“How is school?”
One by one.

The bullets land.
Wear me down.

Break my heart
and my skin.

Color the sky with cerulean blue.
Know in your heart it will be true.
Paint the clouds titanium white.
Use indigo to pigment the night.
Oh, painter, your palette is as sharp as your knife.
May it guide you towards vibrancy all of your life.

Comforted by the bitter.
When your heart twitters,
You pull back and shiver.
Realize that you are a liver.
Not an ***** meant to filter,
But a human just off-kilter.
Realign your soul to peace.
Adjust your path, jump in the leaves.

I have this fear.
I live under its control.
I follow its instructions to the letter.
I avoid its anger and shudder at its mere presence.

I want to reach out and grow,
but I am trapped by glass
walls custom-made for me.

Sometimes we wanna make something.
But we really just want to cry.
Maybe creating tears is still creating.

Creating love,
Creating light,
Creating dark,
Creating night.

Maybe what matters more is the fact that
there’s a product rather than what we produce.

Everyone gets tired of me at some point,
Then eventually, they’ll leave. They all do.
Sometimes happy memories hurt the most.
The way you look back and see the hints.
Those little moments that reveal everything.
I constantly feel so ******* unwanted.

Bite my lip, make it bleed.
Not a lover, it’s just me.
Tearing my skin
Bleeding begins.
The blood cries like I do.
On lonely nights,
Blood on my lips.
I start to slip
Into a haze
That lasts for days