Want to play a game?
You know that one where,
The first person to break a heart wins.

The one where our anxiety is so bad,
We think that if we stay in bed all day,
That'll wash our problems away.

The one where the crippling pressure that still lingers from school,
Is killing you in college,
And you don't know how to tell anyone.

Want to play a game?
You know that one where,
We place a gun to our heads,
Count to three... then press the trigger.

"I miss you tonight, nothing's gonna be alright when you're not here with me."

and now, this is the
definition of
what I feel.

But I can't do anything about it.

Pondering the idea of pain
My mind wanders into the territory that is you
A sign colored red screaming stop is facing me
I would like to know if it hurts-
if it hurts the way getting thrown into the ocean waves unprepared,
the way liquor burns down your cut throat from screaming hate filled words into the stretch of air between you and I

I just want to know if it even hurts a little,
like the way a bee may sting,
or sitting on a metal chair thats basked in sunshine
Because for me its like watching my life walk in front of me,
And leave me behind

I have the city
Beneath me. If I fall, they
Will catch me, won't they?

Things that fall:
Leaves
Snowflakes
Stars
Petals
Tears
Rain
And I
For you

You told me tonight
You were worried about me
Worried that I was depressed
Because you don't think
I'm happy anymore

How would I know?
What is depression?
Even if I knew
I wouldn't admit it
It would make me too sad