Feel Alive(Adopted By Mikey Way)

35~Shallan & Frank

Mikey will be back in three days. Fall Out Boy left to continue their tour last week. Frank has been trying to convince me to dye my hair. I think I might go through with it, but I'm not sure yet. I'm playing a game of Solitaire. There's a knock on the door.

"I'll get it!" I yell before walking toward the door. I open it to see Brian with a large cardboard box.

"Hey Shallan." Brian smiles, walking past me.

"Hi Brian." I return his smile, "What's in the box?"

"Things." I roll my eyes.

"What kind of things?"

"Fun things." he laughs and walks to the back lounge. He sets the box on the couch next to Ray.

"Is that the uniforms?" Ray asks.

"Yep."

"Awesome. I can't wait to see them."

"Well you should wait for Gerard and Mikey."

"Yeah probably." Ray goes back to his game and Brian turns back to me.

"Nice to see you again."

"You too." he walks past me and toward the door. As he reaches the door he looks back.

"Keep smiling. You like nicer when you do." he says and then walks out. I turn around and come face to face with Frank. I let out a small yelp and jump back a bit.

"Don't do that Frank."

"Sorry." he gives me his crooked grin.

"No your not."

"You're right I'm not." I playfully slap his chest before climbing into my bunk. He laughs and gets in his bunk.

Frank's POV

I grab a sheet of paper and a pen.

You can write for hours and hours
Of all the things you wish you could be
But the truth of the matter is simple
People are not poetry
And I know that you wish you weren't awkward
That sweet words could just roll right off your tongue
But your time here's too short to just worry
How each single sentence is strung
It's okay to be rough around the edges
To be bruised up and broken and scarred
But it's not okay to let people tell you
That it's a reason to change who you are
Your hair doesn't always sit neatly
The way a poem sits so neatly in lines
And sometimes you might feel like a word
Nobody has learnt to define
You might not be a star that lights darkness
Or a bird that can teach us to soar
But it's okay because you are too complex
To be crammed into one metaphor
It's okay not to know what you're doing
Since your feelings don't have to all rhyme
Though a poem once complete is eternal
You have freedom to change over time
You're much more than can ever be written
There is no title to say "This Is Me"
You can't be trapped in the lines of a notebook
Because people are not poetry.

Frank Iero

I flip my paper over and start another one.

You are not your age
Nor the size of clothes you wear
You are not your weight
Or the color of your hair
You are not your name
Or the dimples in your cheeks
You are all the books you read
And all the words you speak
You are your croaky morning voice
And the smiles you try to hide
You're sweetness in your laughter
And every tear you've cried
You're the songs you sing loud
When you know you're all alone
You're all the places that you've been to
And the one that you call home
You're the things that you believe in
And the people that you love
You're the photos in your bedroom
And the future you dream of
You're made of so much beauty
But it seems that you forgot
When you decided you're defined
By all the things you're not