Everyone Calls Me Crazy.

Just a name but yet so much more. Crazy. That's what they call me. But, yet, they still don't know or understand. They look over the facts and replace them with their own twisted thoughts and plans. They don't hear me. They don't see me. They DON'T understand me. I've been told my whole life how useless, pathetic, and wrong I am. How ill never succeed and never be anything. Well, I'm out to prove them wrong. I'm more than they see. I notice a glimmer of distraction in their eyes. They don't ever notice the crazy standing in front of them. Like a mirror but yet its multiplied 1000 times until no more crazy is left to give. They taunt me with their words and haunt me with their thoughts. They see only the surface of who I am. They only see where I am at this point. But, hey, they call me crazy. I like the name. At least I am something.

The Way You Are.

Early morning breaks. You are resting for a long day ahead. I am awake, as usual. When your awake we smile, we laugh, we cry, we are one. We are always apart regardless if were together. Your touch seems awkward, hesitant. You smile seems broken, more of a smirk. You have an expression that could break glass. You scream and shake your fists. You get irritated easily your smirk now a frown. I fear this. I fear my car will break down on this road. You have turns and twists that I'm not familiar with. A distraction makes me fall weak. I am tossed and turned upside down. I've flipped my car on this ride I thought would be easy sailing. I have failed to make it to your softer side. You aren't what I assumed in the beginning. Your a stranger that I don't recognize anymore, your faces are unfamiliar to me... you aren't what I assumed. You aren't what I thought was going to be my escape. But, you've turned into how my other roads have been. Long, twisted and leaving me broken and in a mangled heap. The clouds fall over me and I fail to be all I can. I prefer to die than stay here. The thunder echoes my heartbeat. My heart beats one last time and I realise all along you were always this way. This is who you are.

Its The Lullaby

A sweet melody. A soft tone. A roughed up edge but bright as star shine. The notes are so sharp they leave that tasty crimson color along the clef. The lines are like walls they bring in the tempo, they set the mood, notes told to hit where. Notes that no longer are soft. They get heavier and choppier. Soon enough the whole piece is a bunch of lines and circles and accent marks. Nothing makes sense. The notes run together there is no beat. The steady beat in the background continues to fade to nothing. Soon there is silence. Nothing but utter silence. A whisper echoes through the crowd. Amongst these notes are hidden words. Each note a letter expressing something more. A word or a phrase that if played in one way could mean two different things if not placed correctly. The musician is who controls his movements but fails to overcome the obstacles ahead. He drops his instrument and begins a new stretch. A new instrument a new sheet of music. The lines flow together and come together in the right places. The tempo set. The mood is in place. The orchestra starts singing and the heavens open above to welcome the music, the whispers, the forgotten notes, the meaningful accents, and most of all, after the show is over all that is left is the lullaby in which the musician once played. The lullaby of life.

Constant musings of a Wretched Soul

I never used to want someone the way I wanted him but its more or less a struggle each day. A struggle to be seen against his long nights away and his recent website visits. He makes out to be the sweetest guy, but, just as I suspected he's like the rest. He doesn't feel like I feel. He doesn't see things the way I do. He looks past the little things. Abusive without being abusive. Abusive without trying to be. The abuse is self inflicted but nonetheless still from him. He sees past the hurt and ignores the hidden meaning behind "I'm fine." He seems to believe he is completely in the right and he is completely in the wrong. I understand somethings just happen and they are mistakes but the harm that's self inflicted has more meaning than the I'm sorries and the I love yous. Sometimes all you have left is those scars to remind you of what you don't want or what you don't need. Sometimes they tell more stories than the words uttered in conversation.