I'm done with people being surprised by my speaking
Not knowing what to say
Being scared off
I know I can be intense
I'm sorry

I love deeply and I want to say it all
But I know I can't
I'm too intense
But it's hard to pretend
People mean less to me than they do
To some people out there
I have so many messages
I know are just
Too much
For me to send

I think you still look at me,
like you did when I was a kid —
Forever seeing me
as my younger, wilder (freer) self,

When you look at me, still,
All my childish ways were for nothing,
But, I see them as my "red pill"
transforming me into something —

I think you also still see me
lying in that coma.
Your dreams dashed for the ideal daughter's glee
You wished to live out your long-lost desires...

So you dressed me, did my hair
made me up like a daisy doll
lying there without sound to share,
I couldn't protest, I wore that knoll.

But, now —
Here I am,
With a voice less shallow
Yelling:  "I am not that kid anymore!"

So, how do you like that pill —
to swallow?

I'm a deep thinker
In school I am distracted
Questioning too much
Asking why it is that we're doing what we're doing
That we have to listen to what we are blindly listening to
But asking why there
Is considered arguing
So I become a "problem"

In the outside world,
I overthink everything
Wave to theoretical strangers in planes flying above
People are embarrassed to be seen next to me
"Why is that girl holding her head to a tree?"

In relationships,
I'm called intense
I speak too much of what I think
And I see the slightest change in the pattern of the way that they blink
I feel too deeply

In life,
I'm feeling too much too
I say it's just solitude
But it's more than that
I'm lonely
Because lonely means unseen
Not alone

At parties,
Everyone wants things to be light
They enjoy being asleep
But no matter how much I want join them sometimes
I was born with a mind always racing
Never stopping
Always asking
Always feeling
So so much
And I can see all the problems
They're everywhere from
Problems they see just as reality
But i can't tell them
If I don't want to be met with looks of displeasure and disgust
Silence,
And worst of them all
"Anywayssss"

in some houses no one,
presses, steams and irons,
clothes, the inevitable linen,
no more.

busy days we are pressing words,
hanging out for all to see,
to disagree.

a private place, a box, there
are some you will never see.

secrets.

in the pub, reading
someone says why would you read in
the pub
it beats talking