The tissues know something. Even the mirror knows. My music knows it And especially my pillow. My books can see it

Love is the sickness. Love is the cure.

If flowers could cry, Would the water out-spilled Also drown them Like a sloshing grave of Wet mud?

That’s why she died– Because she never let anyone hold… She didn’t trust herself. She didn’t let anyone love her Or touch her

Courage was not letting your broth… But preferring to die From their snide remarks Which shadow prejudice’s unkind da… What happened when they grew up?

I cried out to God, And There was silence.

In seventh grade, I made you a po… But I tore it up into pieces Because it wasn’t good enough. In eighth grade, I made you a poe… But I left it under my bed

I am a plummeting plane. I see the clouds go past, And I close my eyes, sometimes, But I still feel where I’m going. Sometimes, I feel that

Nobody can see the darkness in me, And when I go deep, I bring a flashlight to slash thro… The dark. I once used to frolic in light,

He helps her with her blush. She’s surging red, Velvet and soft like a rose. Her mouth’s gone dry With his wind.

She has the piece that holds it al… What was revealed to her came slow… When it all comes together, it’s l… When it all falls apart, it’s dead… One little lie can tear a family a…

I love John. I love when he cries. When he looks at me, I fly.

I feel so lonely. I want to die. Feeling like the only one on earth… My laughter is a lie. Laugh on, laugh on.