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Description
Reaching out my hand to others just to catch a glimpse
Find out who they are and then slowly get to know them
I can't show myself though and so I smile at them
I form shallow relationships where I just copy the other
Mimic them to an extent and become something they might like.

Sitting on a large hill with only a pencil and notebook
I look down at the kids in my grade running around laughing
And I begin to write about everything I can fit down on a page
Then I turn to the next one and continue, pulling my knees closer
My arms are tight by my sides as I try to bury my face in the paper.

It took me a long time to truly accept it but I'm not lonely
Not in the normal sense at least, where I need people or someone
Rather I'm lonely for not feeling lonely in the slightest
So I sit on this hill watching the people who didn't want me
Running around in circles playing with each other as I'm all alone
But that's just fine because I love being able to write it all out
My characters are my friends as they tell me their lives
My worlds are my home as they fill me with their landscape.

It's so small... and for a long time I thought I was nothing
So scared of turning out to be just a shell on Earth
Meant only to write down these stories, my revenge, until I die
Nothing about me being human and these emotions belonging to others
My own emotions don't exist, I'm merely that dust covered doll
The one in the corner with a cracked smile and dully painted eyes.

So I was terrified of being hollow and that people should never know me
Because if we don't have much in common then why expose myself?
The very me that has been rejected by everyone important in my life?
No, I'd rather hide that me until I'm sure the person won't leave
Then I'll expose it and be ready to take on every burden I can!
Should I go up to potential friends and give them the written guarantee then?
Make me call you my true friend and I'll give up everything for you
Use me, abuse me, and kill me I don't mind as I give up everything
Practically worshiping you as I do everything you ask and try to help.
Too bad everyone I give myself fully to winds up leaving
And the ones I think I can be with forever? Watch them walk away with a smile.

But... you were wrong, you know. My emotions are real in this crooked poetry
I always put my emotions into my work unless I never cared about it at all
But I write even when I don't care... because writing is the perfect solution
It's a constant companion and sometimes I don't write to the best of my ability
Breathing... that's what writing is. It's taking in and releasing air.

I can do it... linear or not, it doesn't matter as I breathe
Writing keeps me sane because without this I'd be without my revenge
Without this I'd be without my very being as I cling to this hill
These people aren't going to stay and I'm not going to open up
So let's keep fighting and keep trying to forget the other.

You know... I think my characters aren't stereotypes and they're real
Because how can people I love so much and have such passion for be fake?
I think my writing is still growing and that yet another person gone...
It might just help me grow once more and maybe people should keep leaving
Then when I'm all alone I can accomplish my dream and live out my revenge
Because even now I can still smile at the blue sky with scattered clouds...

And say,

I'm not a hollow thing at all.

Description
Reaching out my hand to others just to catch a glimpse
Find out who they are and then slowly get to know them
I can't show myself though and so I smile at them
I form shallow relationships where I just copy the other
Mimic them to an extent and become something they might like.

Sitting on a large hill with only a pencil and notebook
I look down at the kids in my grade running around laughing
And I begin to write about everything I can fit down on a page
Then I turn to the next one and continue, pulling my knees closer
My arms are tight by my sides as I try to bury my face in the paper.

It took me a long time to truly accept it but I'm not lonely
Not in the normal sense at least, where I need people or someone
Rather I'm lonely for not feeling lonely in the slightest
So I sit on this hill watching the people who didn't want me
Running around in circles playing with each other as I'm all alone
But that's just fine because I love being able to write it all out
My characters are my friends as they tell me their lives
My worlds are my home as they fill me with their landscape.

It's so small... and for a long time I thought I was nothing
So scared of turning out to be just a shell on Earth
Meant only to write down these stories, my revenge, until I die
Nothing about me being human and these emotions belonging to others
My own emotions don't exist, I'm merely that dust covered doll
The one in the corner with a cracked smile and dully painted eyes.

So I was terrified of being hollow and that people should never know me
Because if we don't have much in common then why expose myself?
The very me that has been rejected by everyone important in my life?
No, I'd rather hide that me until I'm sure the person won't leave
Then I'll expose it and be ready to take on every burden I can!
Should I go up to potential friends and give them the written guarantee then?
Make me call you my true friend and I'll give up everything for you
Use me, abuse me, and kill me I don't mind as I give up everything
Practically worshiping you as I do everything you ask and try to help.
Too bad everyone I give myself fully to winds up leaving
And the ones I think I can be with forever? Watch them walk away with a smile.

But... you were wrong, you know. My emotions are real in this crooked poetry
I always put my emotions into my work unless I never cared about it at all
But I write even when I don't care... because writing is the perfect solution
It's a constant companion and sometimes I don't write to the best of my ability
Breathing... that's what writing is. It's taking in and releasing air.

I can do it... linear or not, it doesn't matter as I breathe
Writing keeps me sane because without this I'd be without my revenge
Without this I'd be without my very being as I cling to this hill
These people aren't going to stay and I'm not going to open up
So let's keep fighting and keep trying to forget the other.

You know... I think my characters aren't stereotypes and they're real
Because how can people I love so much and have such passion for be fake?
I think my writing is still growing and that yet another person gone...
It might just help me grow once more and maybe people should keep leaving
Then when I'm all alone I can accomplish my dream and live out my revenge
Because even now I can still smile at the blue sky with scattered clouds...

And say,

I'm not a hollow thing at all.