"This is nice?"
You stated nervously, as if it where a question you shouldn't be asking.

I nodded.
- Cringing at your lack of confidence

"Yeah it is, Thankyou."
- for teaching me how to be fake.

"I'm glad your having a nice time"
You said, fiddling with the zip on your jacket pocket.

I could not reply, I just smiled numbly.

You smiled too.
- numbly.

This was when I realised I was talking to myself.

Taking to someone who's thoughts, where so similar to my own.

Talking to someone who was always asking.

I had caught a glimpse of what it was like to be around me, and hated it.

- I hated me.

I hated my unsteady heart beat, my constant need for reassurance.

I hated that I craved acceptance and would do anything to receive it.

I hated that I was so scared of disappointing him, like you where scared of disappointing me.

- I hated the fact I was fragile

Your fingers slowly brushed against my palm, I guess you where asking if we could hold hands, but I moved away.

You where so shy and so sweet and so good, I knew that, but I also knew me.

*- I couldn't hold into something that I knew was going to break.

Smoke inhabits my throat. My friends,
Intoxicated, are complimentary –
They say they wish their aesthetic was mine.
My lips, painted baby blue,
Hold loosely onto the Marlboro cigarettes.
I think of a boy, who I don't truly
Know, and I wish he'd attended tonight,
Although he was not invited.

I think in depth of social circles,
And of how circles are impenetrable –
They go continuously round with no edges
To break. I begin to realise that
That is the reason you aren't mine,
And never will be. However, can't
Circles overlap? Why should we not be
The arcs that meet? You are not here,
And I wish you were. What would you
Think about me taking a draw,
****, more than one? I said to you
Once that I would not become another
Teenager, another statistic, who inhales.

I guess I lied.

I think of all this –
As they take ***** shots,
And I distract myself from you
For a moment, by asking why
They'd drink it straight.

He is the inconvenient truth,
And always goes unnoticed.
I guess it's for the better,
I would hate to be ****** into,
His heart he hides,
Under the vacant smiles.

He is the boy who tells white lies,
And balms his good intentions.
I want him to tell me so,
I hate the fact he doesn't.
His mouth just seeps sugar,
What he thinks I want to hear.

He is a constant misconception,
And prides himself on his demeanour.
They think of him as nice, or kind,
I hate the fact I see the latter.
His delusions of how things should be,
Will never cloud my judgement.

For what I hate the most about him,
Is that I know who he really is,
And it's sad,
he wouldn't recognise reflection.

Where they send the children, the lost and alone
The ones who feel but are told not to
Because they feel too much
They're scared of the monsters hiding under their beds
They want to save the ones who hurt, they want to be someones hero
They don't want to hide in the shadows anymore, but they have to
Because if they don't, they'll be sent back
To Kingdom of Pain

Where everyone listens but no one talks
And the children cry quietly in their beds and the boys and girls watch each other
And see the sadness in their eyes
All the children wish to leave because they're stuck, in this Kingdom of Pain

Kingdom of Pain that no one looks at
With faded paint and a chill the runs up your spine
An uneasy silence, making the voices seem real
And the ones you love seem fake

But hopefully, one day, we can leave this Kingdom of Pain
And we can send the monsters back under the bed
And we can save everyone who wants to be saved, then we can be someone's hero
All because of Kingdom of Pain.