CRAYONS

Tell me,
when did a box of crayons become a pack of cigarettes?
And when did bloody knees turn into bloody wrists?

Take me back to the carefree days,
before razors and lighters ever crossed our minds.

I want my freaking coloring book and juice boxes,
but all I can find is coffee and textbooks.

Let me be young, before my crayons were stripped from me and thrown away.
You burned them with your cheap cigarettes and I want them back.

Let me be fearless again, remind me the feeling of innocence.
Please, let me believe.

GIVE ME MY CRAYONS BACK

Just let me be young again

because I'm scared, I'm broken, I'm bloody,

and this smoke is burning my lungs.

UNKNOWN

If you knew me you would know that I like the idea of simplicity, though I am anything but simple.

You would know that I hate reading, but I love books.

You would know I'm a mess.

I guess you'd probably know I'm terrible at factoring equations.

If you knew me you would know that I am a paradox, a conflicted contradiction. 

I crave happiness, yet I am constantly thinking of things that make me sad.

I want everything I can't have.

I love who I am
but god, I hate myself.

I'm so ambitious and I am so very lazy.

If you knew me you would know I'm a mess.

I am a mess,
I'm a little bit insane,
I'm Heisenburg.