i get it
i really do
when you tell me that it feels like
your mind is playing tricks on your heart
fumbling around with the fragile little strings
ruining the perfect harmony of the puppet show inside your mind
tangling the strings
talking away their ability to act our their designated parts
but the show must go on

i get it
i really do
when you say that your lungs are distracted
they cant focus on their jobs and just let you breathe
they stop pumping air at random times
like you used to forget to turn off the stove sometimes
when you were cooking him dinner late at night
and the smoke would full up the whole kitchen and the fire alarm would blare
but you would just swat the broom at the fire alarm on your ceiling until it shut down
youve got to stop neglecting dinner

i get it
i really do
when you say that youre fed up with it all
and you hate the world almost as much as you hate yourself
theres no point in living when youve given up
theres no way to heal when youve
reached the point of no return

i get it
i really do
because im there right now too
and i havent found the answer yet
i know that neither have you
so let me hold your hand while you hold mine
and we can sit in piles of snow while we let the feelings fall out

we can do it every day
until we decide to get up and build a snowman
or make angels with our bodies

for right now we can sit
and remember that we have each other
you can live for me and i can live for you

just until we crack the puzzle of living for ourselves

some times i get so sad

     i
                                 just

b  r  e  a  k                                    
            
                         down

                                      into
                                                         p
                                                              i
                                                          ­      e
                                                          ­        c
                                                                ­     e
                                                               ­         s.

blonde hair, blue eyes,
flat tummy, thigh gap.
redder lips, long lashes.

vogue likes us skinny.
when we're bulimic you say "be yourself."

you say makeup makes you pretty.
but you tell us "don't mask your complexion!"

what
do
we
have
to
do
to
be
accepted?

i want to speak so many things,
but i feel like people will judge.
judge my mind, my whole being.
i'm human too, aren't i? it's just
difficult for me to express,
what i want to say.
that's all.

I can’t stop
The pain and I
Just want to be on top
But no reply

All that happens is a hug
And meaningless actions
Might as well be a shrug
I guess there was no taction

Why won’t the thought of you
Just get out of my head
Please you need to
Leave and go somewhere else instead