Once upon a time there was a girl
Who felt so out of place,
Out of pace with the world,
And a million miles small;
Lonesome flower on the wall.
Always a bud, never a blossom.
Ever micro, never cosm.

One late night she looked up
Into the nothing-nowhere,
And in a breath she wished
That she could go there.
She was never hateful,
Never ungrateful;
What was in her head and her heart
Wasn’t the same, though.

The little girl felt at times
That she was bursting.
Never let the seams give way
To what is hurting!
Oh! to have wings outside of dreaming,
Wouldn’t that be perfect!
To fly away and never wonder
If she wasn’t worth it.
But in the morning she’d wake
The same girl, the same place
The same crowded out space,
And expectations she must face.

Then one day, how it came to be
Nobody knows,
But that little girl awoke
And her wings began to show
‘Til so full and so majestic
She could fly out on her own,
And she thought that maybe now
They’d see her, beautiful and strong!

But she was wrong.
With envy in their eyes
They all scorned her
For becoming something
They declared she wasn’t born for.
Said her gift was nothing
But a thing that had deformed her,
And forlorn, the girl believed,
Spread her wings and wandered.

Up into the nothing-nowhere
Higher she ascended
To the place where she could breathe the air
As wishing had intended.
This was her freedom,
From there unto the curvature of earth,
Where eternity lurked in the colors
Of the sun’s early birth.
The shining stars as ancient bards
Recounted tales of old,
And the faithful moon beside her,
Always smiled, always glowed.

And yet she was alone.
The lights shone up from far beneath her,
From the home that had rejected
Criticized and did mistreat her
For being who she wished to be;
For breaking harmony
So she could play a symphony.
But who was listening?
Isolated in the sky,
It wasn’t freedom
If she only flew up there to hide.

Resolute with her decision
She turned her back to the sky,
And dove away from the nothing-nowhere
Towards the place she’d left behind.
But when she landed in their midst
As an angel from the heavens,
They saw only what was different
And they feared their own imperfections.

Still her intentions did not change,
Her courage did not make her vain,
Because she saw in them the pain
That she herself had borne to shame.
The seizing of her arms
Met no resistance,
And as they ripped her wings apart
She did not plead for their desistance.
The hours passed.

The wretched mob, grown weary with the violence,
Left the girl lying
In the dark and in the silence.
But beside her broken body
Breathing shallow in the street,
A joy within her eyes
And a tear upon her cheek,
Stood a child gazing down
With a smile as she told
The little girl who wished to fly,
“…And here I thought I was alone…”

I never wanted you to see me
But held it against you when you didn’t,
As if it was your fault that I was
Keeping myself hidden.
Back there in the dark,
Behind the curtain, pay no mind.
There is no such thing as magic, don’t you know?
We made it up like fairy tales
On sleepless nights, and you believed,
And so I did because despite myself
I never wanted you to leave.
Don’t you remember when on summer nights
We fell into our dreams?
We sewed the seams so tightly
Between the real and the imagined,
And while you ruled your kingdom,
I got lost while chasing dragons.
But that never really happened.
So, why does this all seem familiar?
Could it be we’re dreaming now?
The bed is getting colder and my breath
Is running out.
It’s not life that I wanted.
Only you.
But you made me want to live.

The other guy is hoping
That he’ll be the only guy.
He’s counting on my weaknesses,
Like counting down the time.

The other guy knows everything,
That even I don’t know.
At least, I think he knows them…
He always tells me so.

The other guy will watch
As I do my best for me.
He’ll wait until I start to think
That, perhaps, I might be free.

The other guy will calculate-
He’s got it to a science-
The moment best to take me down
And beat me ‘til I’m silent.

The other guy, he blacks my eyes
And breaks my fingerbones,
He suffocates the light away,
‘Til all is dark at home.

The other guy, I know him, too,
And how he’s kept at bay:
If I become the other guy,
He can’t come hurting me.

My heart, it burns

In tall and dying grass,

And wind, it gives

The fire living chance

To spread consuming flames

Across this field

Where once this barren ground

Did blossoms yield,

And trees gave shade

To creatures great and small

That now are hanging on

A hunter’s wall;

But in them all the grievance

I did claim,

I grieve for claiming them

By other names.

And in my shameful tears

I only dream

That I shall weep enough

To rain a stream,

And douse these flames

To quench this thirsty place;

To no more all those living things


So leave me be to cry

Upon my knees,

And let the pain run deeper

Than I please;

For all that matters now

Is life complete-

That living should remain

So bittersweet.

So much for this cross to bare

And this lot in life to share

With but so little care

For Redemption;

And what is there to say

For the future of decay

When all our fathers prayed

For redemption?

If, like winds upon the masts,

Nothing ever truly lasts,

Then what is there steadfast

In redemption?

So I’ll continue on this road

Where happiness in none bestowed

Nor anything is owed

But redemption.

If time could tell the story,

That tale of Ages Past,

Of humble lovers’ treasure

and keeping it to last;

If time could recollect them,

Each moment that it bloomed

The love of two beginners

‘Gainst the dark impending doom;

If time could say, or utter hence

In whispered tones of light,

I think that it would give a kiss

While whispering, “Goodnight.”

I have a problem.

I wish that I could tell you about it,

But I have the suspicion you already know,

And that would lose the effect of confession.

But fuck it.

I don’t know what part of me is broken.

It happened before you,

But it’s in there somewhere,

And finding it is a fruitless obsession.

I want to be my best self for you.

I want you to look at me and feel strength.

I want you to look at me and be proud.

But my greatest accomplishment thus far is

Arriving alive.

Not even arriving home.

Just arriving.

But there’s no bragging about surviving.

It’s been the norm for so long for so many.

I’m no different than the rest

In front of a mirror.

Yet, somehow, the reflection of you

Is much clearer.

Still, I feel like a fraud–

Please, for that truth don’t applaud.

It’s only the proof that I’m human and flawed.

And why do I feel like I shouldn’t be?

I’m only human, after all,

And we could forgive that couldn’t we?