The truth is, they'll never love you.
Your arms werent made to hold lovers at midnight.
You were created to absorb sunshine while darkness sorrounds you.
You are a shrub that won't cast a shadow in fear of inferiority, afraid to be the prospect of these partisans.
Perhaps your most promising trait is invisibilty.
Your fingers were made to hang ten and hold on to your nothingness for comfort
While ten men hang ten.
It's not abuse if this is the only love you know.
You were created to absord darkness while suns strike you with folded fists.
It's not a burn if you can't feel the heat.
Because you're uncovered and drafts slip in under covers at midnight so you keep a pen close.
And hope they keep your legs closed long enough for you to remember what you were thinking about 5 seconds ago.
Its not your fault that your reflection doesn't seem very pleased to have met you.
That your dreams are only there when youre asleep 'cause you're afraid they'll take that too.
As long as society still breathes the oxygen that we need to survive we will inevitably die before we start living.
Until we realise that trees photosynthesize.
That we cast shadows while they cast stones.
Until we part seas to create new paths,
Part C's and mold them to create hearts
our bones will be brittle until we be 12 and follow ourselves because they will never love us.
It's nothing to be shamed of, when your silhouette casts shadows larger than you.
You are mother nature to the earth inside your mind.
Maybe your arms werent meant to hold lovers at midnight but they were made to tend gardens and reap greatness.
Maybe silhouettes casts shadows to play with your mind but I never dreamt of being as tall as my reflection.
