Care To Prance With Me In My Mind?

Falling down is where I am.
Falling into the arms of many friends.
Asleep with Matt on the couch,
Laughing with Aleena at her house,
Mad piggy-backs from Edwin for miles…
Holding hands childishly with Ray,
Keeping it tight with Madi all the way.
And thinking of my best friend Ferdie the rest of the day.
 
Meeting Mike for the first time,
“Hello Kevin.” I get a hug for being first in line.
Heather’s shifty eyes change once she looks at me,
Bad mouthing a friend and finding it too easy.
 
Seeing them all at the park,
While they come up making silent remarks.
But since the incident of love all I see is dark.
So these little harsh secrets and gossip have made a spark. 

In the darkness I have fallen into,
Right and wrong,
Give me nothing to do.
But the two terms,
I’d like to pursue,
Are really two straightforward words,
Called “Fuck you.” 
The explanation,
Behind the art of these two words,
Is too not push away,
And yet still be heard.
Care,
But don’t care enough.
Love,
But try and bluff.
Be silent,
But still damn tough. 

But the sparks,
That has been enlightened,
Within my dark,
Burns this rule,
“Fuck you.”
And make me,
Everyone’s voodoo. 
Rather they see it or not,
I’m played with like a doll,
Given happy comments,
Only when my sanity is about to fall. 
Respected,
But not respected enough,
Loved,
But talked about with a hush,
Betrayed,
But hey…tough luck. 

Another lesson,
I’d like to bring up for a moment,
Is the lesson of love,
And sum it up in a few comments. 

Love is like a piece of shit.
It comes out fresh,
And the smell is a real hit.
After awhile it hardens,
And you get used to it.
Stable and ready,
It silently sits.
Until little by little,
It disappears by bits. 

My point is,
High school seems like life,
But it isn’t.
The romantic saying called:
“Forever”
Shouldn’t even be in our vocabulary.
Should be brought up never.
It’s just imaginary. 
“Fuck him”
“Fuck it”
“Fuck you” 
So while this,
Is all going on in my mind.
I am still played with like a puppet,
And being blind. 

Now the two who put the blindfold,
Are my inner selves.
Angela,And Camille.
The hazards to my health.  
They always disagree,
Fighting over love,
Or getting mad over the simplest things,
But they both chant this,
To the beat of their broken hearted wings. 

“Getting too close to people,
Is long in the past.
“Fuck you.”
I am gravely through.
Even trust with a close friend,
Shall be broken too.” 

(Once more threw on paper what I thought, I hate this poem with its lame poetic values...)