I see their brown complexions
With even brighter faces
That drive all day, stand guard all night,
and clean in between.
I am shattered glass,
scattered in the wind,
and thus torn up;
*A Million Pieces.

Existing is comparable to being
stuck inside of a movie theater,
watching the scenes of my life
projected on a screen that is
small enough to represent the
size that I feel.

On that screen would not be a
film that is vibrant in color and
filled with hues found in daylight,
a sight that would be considered
dazzling to the average person.

A black and white motion picture
always was better-suited to my personality,
painting a more honest image of both
the darkness that rests inside me
and of the specks of white light that
sporadically interrupt the infinite canvas of
charcoaled paint that
long ago dried on the
crumbling walls of my brain.

These layers of paint keep
thickening with age
and the heaviness stopped
feeling artistic quite some time ago.
It refuses to be washed away by
compliments, or what I perceive to be
sugar-laced lies told because
spreading goodness is man's civil duty.

But if I'm being honest to goodness,
believing that the slightest
trace of beauty lives within my organs
fills me from head to toe with fear because
the beauty people often see is
the kind that is tragic and
romanticized to new extremes in the
twisted culture that we call ours.

I do not wish to be art anymore.
My life is not a movie plot
waiting to be predicted,
and my mind is not a painting
meant to be criticized.

I want nothing more than to
be whatever creation I was
placed on this earth to be,
and I need at least one person to
accept the parts of me that were
accidental and poorly designed.
I need someone to love me
despite the malfunctions of my making.

-mp

Pain is just a simple compromise...
To get what we want out of it
Catharsis
Beauty in misery
Anticipation
Anxiety at it finest..
Life
Not what you gather
But what you *scatter

The tears are gone so they think shes happy
She smiles to cast of their worries
Hanging over her head like a dark cloud
Shes scared her fears will swallow her whole

In her room, her home she hibernates
Like a bear in winter all she can do is wait
Wait for a change in season a change in mood
A change is all she needs, all she hopes for

Her veins seem empty, dry, run out
She doesn’t have the energy to hurt
She’s stopped all emotions, she feels nothing
Not even the pain that made life feel real

She would be the last girl you guessed though
She smiles and laughs at all the right time
The cuts on her arms have turned into scars
But she’s an empty box, beaten and hurt

She’s gone now, never to be seen
People try to talk but she never talks back
She’s gone now, but who will know
Shes the last girl you would guess

Allow me to explain
what falling in love feels like.
You see, the falling happens when you run too fast,
only you don't have a clue as to
what you're running from.
All you know is that your thoughts are
a little too dense and
the pace that your heart is beating at is
a little too intense,
almost as if it was ready to
detach itself from your chest and
start running a race of its own.
But you already know that
no matter how fast your feet move
they'll never be able to keep up.
Eventually you give up the fight and
when you stop you realize that you
made it to the finish line,
only it isn't a line at all and
you were never running away from anything,
not even for a second.
All this time you were running a marathon
with the one you love as the finish line,
and now that you see this it
feels like you have finally won.

-mp