Take Apart My Head.

Slight Nostalgia

I feel your slight glaze burn on my back

I look to you and you turn your head

I look away and you stare again

If your stare was any more menacing

you might have burnt holes through my waist.

Cry as many tears as the clouds

and peirce as many hearst as the stars.

I'm tired of feeling like the only person, who doesnt avoid the simple

but beautiful questions, the ones that truly make you who you are

Everything seems so wrong

every person needs a group of people to agree with every wrong word theys say.

I'm trying so hard to walk on my own, learning the things my brain forgot that my body has not.

but I am socially dying

descending, into puddles and transcparent in the clouds.

I have so many good qualitys, so many great things about me....

but no one will notice them

because its all about the cover of the book, all about the pattern on the wrapping paper.

but the inside of the book is so much more fun to read.