My father and mother gave me life.
Father contributed maybe just a minute;
His effort made life happen to me
Then he mostly cast me adrift in it.
Mother took longer to have me
But cared even less for me it seems
And after she did what she had to do
She just cared about her own dreams.

Life can be painful if you’re an orphan
Uncared for, unwanted and a pain.
It’s almost like people hold living against you
When they see you coming around once again.
Believe me, this is not what I wanted;
Always to be the flat fifth wheel.
I don’t know what else could have happened
But I have always aware of what I feel.

I developed a lifelong hatred of imposing,
Of asking something when not welcome.
I did what I could to show gratitude
But somehow I was taken as loathsome.
It was almost as if to know me was to hate me
And the best thing I could do was to be gone.
To make myself scarce from the party.
My best trick was just me moving on.

So, early in life, I started collecting
A brand-new batch of my family.
I only kept around those with no problem
Letting me know that they treasured me.
I stopped keeping track of the careless,
The users that only wanted what I had.
I turned my ears deaf to any naysayers
And ever since then I have been glad.

Christmas stopped being painful or lonely
With loneliness or abuse being the theme.
I joined in the traditions and merriment
And made holidays the fun they should seem.
I had my decorations and stockings hung up
On the mantel of a home of my very own.
And for those who didn’t care much for me
I wish them a Happy Twilight Zone.

I've found my new obsession.

Smirk affixed to his face
with sarcastic remarks
and slippery words,

mysterious in that stupid
teenage way.

I'd **** to hear what he has to say
about the nonsensical *******
we're forced to endure
each day
that the government calls an
"education".

I'm sure
his opinions on how
we're taught to the standardized tests,
nothing more
and nothing less
could cause enough raw power
to run the whole of New York City
for a month.

Though, too, I'd **** to learn
the terrain of his lips
as our bodies
slammed
against lockers,

oblivious classmates
a wall away
consumed by the
awesome
world of geography,
missing out on something
so
much
more.

He and I,
we'd know what more is,
we'd know how to consume it,
how to keep it at bay,
how to work it
like a hat,
a hat we aren't allowed to wear
at school.

We'd laugh at our own obscurity,
and shared secrets
would run through our veins
like blood,

one cut and it all spills

Howling winds flew against red cheeks,
tousling my mob of hair in a thousand directions.
I stood high as I could atop the building's roof
with my legs shaking from fatigue and adrenaline.
I moved my bloodied tongue against colorful cracked lips,
hissing at both the pain and relief I felt
through that one simple action.
I lightly ran my thumb atop my
left hands bruised knuckles, chuckling
at the painful blow I know I gave.
But I would pay for that tomorrow...
Gritting my teeth at the thought I clenched my fists,
and stepped forward, placing my toes
over the edge of the dirtied stone building.
The cities typical smog filled sky
was littered with stars of all sizes tonight,
as if they had only come out of hiding
to watch the morbid show I planned to give.
I stared at the audience above my head
with a glare in my watery green eyes
daring them to stop me, to warn me,
but they didn't.
Instead, they shone brighter than ever
humming songs without spoken words
they were content...
In their dark, gloomy, polluted sky, they were content
So I sat on that worn building ledge and
shoved my aching hands deep inside my sweatshirt pocket,
waiting for the morning sun to appear
somewhere, anywhere
in the sky.

Stomp, stomp, stomp
Unhappy glares
He walks up the stairs
The kid is stirring up tears.
Yelling and cries
Mixed with more stomping
You told me I was unwanted,
To just go away if I wasn't helping.
You didn't even tell me what you were doing,
It's not ignoring if I can't hear you.

Did you drop into existence,
light as a feather,
or did you make the world implode
with your erupting presence?
300 million years ago,
animal but human,
human and needy,
riding on backs of giants
to travel to farwaway places,
and then soaring...

Extracting anger and desperation,
tying yourself tight to an image of hope,
to an image of transformation,
so we humans can only desire
to be worthy of your donation...

Nothing flusters you,
and even though your wings
are both blue,
there is nothing sad about you.

You tuck away the empty chasms
of a soul made to feel too old,
made to feel that it should not
aspire to be the sun,
but merely its shadow...
and you paint their
switched off, tired eyes
with ineffable hues of strength.

Dragonfly, you show me
that through your years,
you've cried and you
fought your battles and
some old parts of you died...
and you showed me that
rebirth and imperfection
aren't missing but whole,
that mess isn't haunted
or unwanted but needed
for exploration...

If every particle of ours,  every chemical
that went into a single thought
could be stored away in its designed,
picturesque room,
how could we claim to be mysteries?

Dragonfly, now it's my turn
to give away my pieces of decay,
let them burn.
You are expectedly lingering at my window,
you've always been,
and I'll no longer keep you waiting.

my heart feels like it's been bound
by twine
thinning, fraying, splitting, cutting
the soft metronome of my pulse feels
heavier and heavier
each thud thunders in my body and i
start to drown, simply because
the twine is choking my heart so tightly
taking away my breath
and forming it into tears
all because of him

I had a moment.*
I was sitting there, a bit sleepy
Holding a guitar that i can't play
-Then he came in.
He sat next to-
in front of me,
He took the guitar from me and started playing a song,
he sang.
Two songs later, he gave me an update on this girl he's crushing on
Then he sang,
Another 3 songs that i love-
-he didn't know i loved those songs,
Those songs in my playlist
That i listen to
When i'm down

Excuse me, but were my words addressed to your ears? Or was I perhaps not talking to you.

Do I give a **** about your unwanted opinion? Tell me, should I care?

Was my thought a gift for your mind to process? Or should you mind your own business.

Was I talking to you? Or are you just rude.