More Writing from the Train

And it’s like we are fourteen all over again. 

None of them actually feel loved. 

They have no foundation, 

No destination 

And breathe in every temptation.

And that needle begs to the empty eyes to fill up again.

Those pills scream to the broken hearted that they can heal any and every pain.

That rope gives to the fallen something to hold onto.

That pool of water helps them fill all of their holes.

That gun gives them the power and control

With a velocity that can kill and

For the first time possibly give these lost a straight direction.

That knife being pressed against their skin

Gives them a sort of awkward comfort that can’t be patched up,

Just like their cracked mindset.

It’s a supplement they feel they don’t have.

Those weapons used to face their fears are

Meant to complete them in the only way they have life.



Don’t tell me what to believe in. I let myself open up and fall. Just to be reminded fairy tales don’t exist and you can only be prince charming through the lies. Once the magic wears off your are just as lost, distracted and useless as the last.

Go ahead, hide behind that mask baby.

You’ve been doing it all along.

No sense to share who you are with the world.

Better play me like a puppet.

 And just when, I’m reeled in you let loose.

Showing me the creature you held in for too long.

Once I saw the real you,

I needed to let go myself baby.

I’m not gonna be your doll.

You can’t move me along with whatever you do.

So while you hid behind that mask,

I caved when you pulled.

I played the puppet to perfection.

But I refuse to wear this makeup any longer.

I will not bend to help you make me break.

I will not satisfy your inhibitions

Just to give you a false comfort.

I am my own master.

The more you give into your fears,

The more you lose me.

One of these days the strings will be gone

And I will be happy on my own again.

I won’t play pretend. I gave into a world of make believe, of false promises and distant dreams of an alternate reality that only you could still believe in. imp done with this game of mushy sayings and happily ever after. Of fake smiles and forced laughter’s. Love isn’t fake and everything with you has been. And quite frankly, I am sick of playing along.

I want real. I want passion and lust. I want compliments on more than just my sexual appeal. I want someone who thinks about romantic dates and cute gestures. I want a real person full of heartbreak and memories of what it was like to fall. I want future dreams and would you rather. I want more than a possibility. I want the truth and the truth is yours is all a lie.

Please heart. Stop breaking. Stop beating. Stop caring. Stop being. Make things easy on me. Stop the hope, the pain the endless carefree love. Because that is what first love is? It’s not just your first kiss or romantic date. It’s not your first gentleman or first Armstrong. It’s your fairy tale, your very best friend. He’s the one that your heart will always beat for. And the one you never thought you be without. He’s the reason you loved life and the first person you truly trusted. He’s your everything. But mainly, he’s your pain. Your broken dream and overplayed record. He’s the reason your trust is withered and your heartbeats seem farther apart. He’s EVERY worry, every question and every possibility of a problem. He is your conscious and brain, he’s also the lock and key on your heart. Beckoning them to enter and begging to keep them away.

Look at her. She’s your goddess. You have her on a pedestal that is far beyond anyone else’s each. She’s got to have flaws. Don’t you see her imperfections? Are you ready for THAT disappointment?

Is she ready for what you are saying? You don’t realize she battles it because she wants to believe it’s a lie. She wants you to prove her wrong. Sometimes you have to let your backbone show a little. Sometimes you have to call her bluff.

Lead her. Take the first step. Go slow. She forgot what its like to go down this road. Take her hand and guide her. Get to far ahead and she will surely drown. Take it a step at a time. Let her soak it all in and enjoy it. Give her time to fall.

Its gonna be tough. Its gonna test your patience. Its gonna be a lot more wrong then right. But show her the ending she has stopped believing in and you will win her over.

Do you see that little girl? She must be four or five.

No one told her the truth her whole life.

She’s been brought up on lies of happily ever after,

Broken dreams and empty glass bottles.

The worlds been warped from the bruised arms and broken hearts.

Yet this girl still plays "he loves me, he loves me not"

Only about her very own father instead of her prince charming.

She is gonna be the strongest person you will ever know.

With her head in the clouds to escape

Her feet on the ground to maintain

And her strength around her own heart to protect.

And she’s already that way. But she’s only four or five.

Just wait.