This ain't a book, it's a mirror telling stories
I am no poet, I'm just desperate for attention
Beneath this callous skin I'm really just a raw nerve
Inside me you'll find a need suspiciously familiar

Eyelids shut tight
We see the awful things we think but fear to speak out loud
As if thoughts were sins, and transgressions were dreams we don't allow
When she touches those awkward nerves does it shiver your spine?
Do cringe and wish she didn't or do you like what you find?

I'm not a vandal but an artist who believes in
practical expression. I don't paint pictures, I destroy them
No apologies, your actions write the stories
Live with your decisions. Would you dare to live life boring?

Submerged in apprehension, like a child in the deep end, it's not the water that you fear, it's the comfort that you've been missing.
Perhaps a hypocrite, I'm just a mouth that tries to speak some truth, a maladroit with visions, an assumed liar with something to prove...

I just want to touch something that touches back.
I want to breath where my lungs can expand and retract without being confined to a place and a time.
We were star-crossed lovers with star-crossed eyes