Please excuse the tonality of this arrangement of text.

I want to get something off my aching chest, and it's something I can't seem to word correctly in a text. 

But i wanted you to know how I feel when I'm told to worry, and that you wouldn't mind. 

That when I worry, you don't care, because you think it would be foolish. Or stupid. 

Please excuse the rudeness: but I'll tell you what's stupid. 

Pouring your heart out to someone

Blowing your brains in their lap

Dying in their arms 

Doing anything for them 

To show them how much you adore them. 

Only to have them turn around and (for lack of poetic phrasing) cheat.

Every time. 

That's stupid. 

Just saying.  

And then there are some

There are some things that some people say

And the way they act around certain people 

They make you feel a certain way.

Think certain things.

Think certain things that you aren't really certain about.

They make you think that you're supposed to be left to carefully pick the petals off of dead roses, grasping the stem though it may have thorns. 

We get addicted to a certain kind of sadness. 

It takes us by the wrist, digging its filthy nails into your sensitive skin.

It really gets to you 

And makes you feel dead inside 

And we wonder 

Why 

Why do some people love to see the pain of someone they once loved? 

Part two. Unpublished story.

A broken picture frame, 

with the image still intact

A picture worth a thousand words

Yet worth nothing 

all at once

He feels so alone, yet in a world full of life. 

He screams to be heard by none but himself