You gave me a boat—
A boat made of paper.
You painted it blue,
I preferred green.
You poor soul, couldn’t have known

Oh, You gave me a boat—
I said it was perfect,
And I knew it was paper,
Yes, I swear I did.

But I put it in the water,
Even quickly named it June,
A quiet way to remember
The day you forgot soon

And I knew it was melting—
And I know you did too

But god gave me a heart
Gave you one too
Though yours is for beating
And mine is to feel


Still—
I went in the boat,
Oh, I didn’t want fighting.
A few feet later,
I felt the water flow.

I swam to the shore,
And yes, I saw you laughing—
But still, I swam to you,

For I could not call for help
Help from the warm murky water
No I will not anger you.
And I didn’t choose to drown,
For I cannot bear it.

Bear to see you suffer,
Like I would have for you.
Though you do not deserve it,
And not for forever— I hope
I swim back to you

Russel was given the nickname ‘Knowsy’,
Because he knew just about anything.
If the signs weren’t apparent, like the glasses on his nose,
Russel was a nerd, and believe me, Russel knows.
Whenever someone needed help on a test,
“Russel knows,” and he dealt with the rest.
When the **** needed to finish his homework,
“Russel knows,” and then the **** forced him to work.
Oh, the curse of knowledge,
How the nerd turns from a laughing stock to a precious commodity.
Reduced from a human,
To a know-it-all without an identity beyond his brain.
Russel hated how he knew this pain.
Haley needed a favor,
An assignment was due,
And she couldn’t afford to fail.
So she went to Russel,
Not knowing about his crush,
Would his heart prevail?
He was skeptical,
Why was the prettiest girl in the world talking to him?
He had envisioned this in his head,
But it was only hypothetical.
Russel knew that it was too good to be true,
When the first words she said were,
“What did you get on number two?”
He was being used…again.
Russel knows how it feels to have your smarts be used against you.
Russel knows how knowledge can wound you.
Russel knows these things to be true.

I sit and wonder what life would be like if I was a narcissist?
Would my flesh feed on manipulation or feel guilty when I walk over ppl
Feel satisfaction when I lure them in with my compliments and trap them in my web of lies
I be joker and they be my fool
Get them attached
Have em confused,
torn to pieces
Make sure they stay depressed.
Rub my hands like bird man keeping their head a mess
Overthinking
I’m lowkey smiling
Their sorrows continue to be a gift I cannot name, A twisted comfort in this cruel game to feed my ego
Thrilled to pick their brains like a picky eater at dinner pick them apart until they become what I like
Walk around collecting hearts like eggs on easter
Just so I can bruise em up and eventually break em
Then watch em put themselves back together again
Laugh at their pain
Hold them like a puppet in my hands
Connected souls and I control the strings
As I sing these sweet nothings in their ears telling em all the things just for fun
As they dance my voice becomes a sounding alarm
Hypnotizing,
on the count of 3
I snap and they run
Grin as they obey everything that I want done
Would I give a **** that I’m ruining the lives of these beautiful ppl?
Or would I laugh at the selfish gain
continue to **** the life until nothin is left but a corpse and their left walking this earth empty with nothing left to give
How would I live?

Like **** I hope.

You’re not making me unsure about me
you’re making me angry, at you
cause I love who I am and how I look
I used to blame myself
but now all I only do for doubting me
is doubting you.

L.C.

She painted me in violent red
Dripping oil and
Strokes of toxic lead
Painted bloodied battle scenes
Of her, martyred
Me, dead
Vast imagery to tell her story,
Duplicitously
She painted her face
On every soldier, replaced,
And sold it museum to museum,
Showcased
I am the pawn,
Exhausted
A lifetime of submission
Of holding up hers,
Supported
I jumped ship, swam to shore
Faced my pain,
Drew lines in the sand,
Ended my war
She sings to the world her lies
Still, now
And paints me in violent red
From the cut she made,
From the wounds she bled.

Sarcastic amputator of a man,
She was the biggest of his fans.
She said she wanted to have fun,
He was so close, she had to run.

A witness told us all his cons.
A dagger in the human lungs.
“He told me I deserved to choke!”
His response: “What a beautiful joke!”

They found the ropes beneath his bed,
Knotted tightly with what she said.
A tight collar summons death.
A breath. A breath. A BREATH.

The only crown above his game
Caught him fast, as he admitted his blame.
A shattered mirror for a name:
Shame. Shame. SHAME.

It was real.
I can feel it.
Like fingers wrapping
Around my wrist.
Wispy and delicate...
Or rough and jagged?

You tell me it never happened.
But why is my pillow stained with my tears?

Because I know my tears were real.
But to you...
They were just phantom tears.