Welcome to my family,
And all the crap we share,
I'll pretend to give a shit,
If you pretend to care.
Every single mistake we make
Doesn't happen just once or twice,
If we've done it once before,
We've done it a thousand times!
......
Not many adjectives,
Nor much sense,
I wish to write
For my girl, but
She doesn't like poetry.
To put it simple
Without thesaurus,
Her eyes, brows, nose,
Short hair and smile,
Together reminds one--
......
I’m used to it by now.
Nothing can surprise me.
I’m not your puppet, I never was.
I’ve cut myself loose.
I could have anyone else but you.
What is wrong with you?
No.
What is wrong with me?
I want to cry, and never stop.
......
They say you always remember your first kiss.
So why can’t I remember mine?
I remember the person,
I remember her hair,
The way her mouth was narrow and shaped like a heart.
But I can’t remember when that mouth first touched mine.
I remember the words she spoke,
......
Mama just wants a perfect Daughter,
Expectations keep coming like drops of water,
Drip,
Drip,
Soon the cup spills over.
Mama doesn't know,
She doesn't try to understand,
The expectations overflow.
......
Mama just wants a perfect Daughter,
Expectations keep coming like drops of water,
Drip,
Drip,
Soon the cup spills over.
Mama doesn't know,
She doesn't try to understand,
The expectations overflow.
......
Welcome to my family,
And all the crap we share,
I'll pretend to give a shit,
If you pretend to care.
Every single mistake we make
Doesn't happen just once or twice,
If we've done it once before,
We've done it a thousand times!
......
They say you always remember your first kiss.
So why can’t I remember mine?
I remember the person,
I remember her hair,
The way her mouth was narrow and shaped like a heart.
But I can’t remember when that mouth first touched mine.
I remember the words she spoke,
......
I’m used to it by now.
Nothing can surprise me.
I’m not your puppet, I never was.
I’ve cut myself loose.
I could have anyone else but you.
What is wrong with you?
No.
What is wrong with me?
I want to cry, and never stop.
......
The firefly in my soul is burning my body. It makes me run until I'm near death, then gives me a few seconds to catch my breath. Then, chop-chop, back to the hustle! Again. The six strings become my entire world as I get lost in the web of possibilities that are just aching to be realized, be seen, and be heard. My words melt onto the page, taking form as the led of my pencil turns into liquid gold that bleeds out of my pores when I cry. I want to cry. I need to cry. I want my tears to turn into lines that form sentences that stab people's hearts like the spear of lightning that was birthed in the caves of Zeus's fingerprints. I want my fingerprints to be remembered. I want my sentences to be kept in a museum beside those ancient teapots that were used by some fat king. I want my six strings to become someone's entire world, their entire universe. I wanna be famous. I want to play with my life. I wanna destroy it and bring it back with the help of my firefly. This firefly runs through my veins faster than my blood, faster than my pain, faster than my joy, and faster than... me. It is my desire and my friend. It is my desire to be a friend. It is my poison and my medicine. It is everything. I love my firefly.
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