Why do people have eyes

But cannot see tearstained windows

And trembling lips, bitten raw?

Why do people have ears

But choose to ignore the cracking and panic

And give an innocent look of confusion instead?

Why do people have minds

Only to take advantage of those who are weaker

Or slower or have any disadvantage possible?

What's the point of memories

That are not just unpleasant 

But haunt and tear into their owners form

Pulling them loose front the inside out

Leaving them scarred and broken?

If I were stronger perhaps I would say

'I shall become a philosopher

And learn the truths to these questions'

But I am not strong, so I can only wonder.

Should I do this?

I look down down down

Into the chasm.

I know it doesn't look it now

But it is beautiful. 

There's so much still to do

In this wide world...

Oh well, it doesn't really matter that much.

No one is willing to join me,

I'll leave them all behind, perhaps forever

But that's okay.

I believe there are new adventures out there

If there's not, oh well.

My wish has always been to fly

Why not give it a try? 

I suppose all there is to say now is,

Farewell. 

The rocks will fall

From the sky

And hit the water

So nothing will die.

The trees will fall over

When no ones around

That way when they hit

THere will be no sound.

The earth will crumble

Long after we leave

Searching the stars

So no one will asweve.

Yes, the world will fall

But hurt no one

Because we are careful

And look past the sun.

Yes we search the stars

Looking for places

That could be home

And we turn our faces

To the sky.

WHat do you guys think? 

empty beautiful words

i don’t even know what i’m going to write, but i open up another doc,

start another poem, hoping the immense, awful

feeling inside me can be transmitted through words that

hurt, poke, stab somebody in the heart, like you’ve just stabbed me,

with your feelings full of nothing words,

beautiful sounds that pierce through the flesh and

tears start to fall as 

blood leaks out, her voice coating my scars in honey, a million tunes that should mean

a million different things, but instead all feel like

this big, nameless ache of

wanting, wishing, begging, beautiful images and words

blurring together as my eyes fill with tears and

i never know what i’m going to write but i always end up writing 

something, bandages made of empty words to heal

the emptiness your words left behind.

My world of stories

Crumbles around me

A fight of licenses and international laws

And poor broken lungs against microorganisms

Then malicious code + others' paranoia 

Has shattered all I used to hold dear--

No new updates,

No 'Its already been ___ long?' filled with exasperation

No, 'I love this character,' or 'that storyline was such a let-down' 

No chatrooms filled with inside jokes and emojis 

No familiar website 

'Cause that's gone too.

And so I drown on my own

In a sea of exams and presentations and papers 

Wishing I could still lend my many tongues

To the stories and illustrations I so loved.

Goodbye. 

I'm sorry.

It's too

late. 

I never 

wanted

any of 

this.

Letter to...

I’ve tried handing you the world

Don’t you know I wrote it all for you

And you never even saw

You never tried to see

You overlooked my words

Now it’s just for me

I wonder sometimes 

If you meant it

Did you say nothing on purpose 

Because my rhymes are worthless?

I’ve asked a thousand times

I’ve read a thousand words

I show you how much I try

And I get nothing in return.

And, oh,

I guess 

I’ll pour my soul into my notes

But now I’ll figure it won’t be noticed

Just another million letters

In millennia’s worth.

Golden boy, golden boy

You shine like the morning sun, they say;

Golden boy, golden boy

Brilliant, bright, first place as always.

But I tell you not to let it get to your head

Can Icarus fly too close, if he is the very sun to shun?

Looking at you now my heart is made of lead 

For you say my safety's everything, but tether me when I try to run; 

Don't try to protect me, with your misguided sense of justice;

For only in silence and solitude and starry nights, will I ever find true solace.