to whom it may concern... no one

quien es ella

self condemnation will get me nowhere

you came with scissors

and later left

but you'll come back 

and, i'll let you in 

yes, all the way in 

even though you come with scissors 

mistakes i know all too well

tears 

pouring out of eyes like there is an endless well somewhere, hidden where i cannot see 

pain 

every single drop falling so fast for it is weighed down with heartache, 

heartache

so strong that every drop of hers that collides with my skin makes me flinch 

i can almost physically feel it, taste it, because i can see it 

words escape me 

for, 

when i make the same mistakes as you

who am i to give advice?

i can only relate... and touch to console 

who am i to give advice? 

sing me a song

(many societies understand family through other concepts than genetics)

we all live together 

making music through our lives

every action ringing, shattering the silence of monotony  

oh, here life is never mundane, but interesting, twisted and bright 

each of us with our own song

each of us with our own fight  

so sing me a song 

pick up that guitar 

and tiny harmonica 

turn on the organ and whistle along 

we'll act like we're great, 

cus when we're together, we're great,

sing me the song of our lives 

(i am home 

goodnight, brother, 

i am home)  

crossed

her words crossed my vision

and he told of it too 

not to me, the world, but i'm apart of that so i heard 

and then him, he's effortless 

but for more

i get word in convenience 

only sometimes...

not usually

remembered

because quickly warmth is forgotten 

leaving the amity flawed 

still there are the pictures captured in whispers 

smiles and smirks

but not observed 

i notice it's when obvious  

only when most eyes are closed 

only when predicted and convenient

only when best noted, by none 

i grow up

i have a fish

named fishy 

so original, i know 

what am i, five years old? 

something like that, sometimes...

then night comes along 

and i grow up. 

older than five, 

older than i am, really 

awkward and lovely

you know those days...
where nothing matters
everything that happens feels so surreal
when you don't go through the motions, because there are none
when it feels like you're a spectator
like nothing is actually happening to you
you're just watching
so you're invincible
possibilities
the world is on your fingertips
so you stare at it because you've nothing better to do
the days when you find beauty in the simplest things
things you overlooked entirely before
your senses seem heightened
because every song has glorious new beauty
you can almost taste the notes it seems so lush
and food is exquisite, even the simplest
awkward and lovely these days are...
i've had one of those days today
i wish it was endless
appreciate the simple