I could say that I feel good, but that'd be a lie.
I could say that I feel crappy, and that's a lie, too.
My world is crumbling.

I live in a land of the half-dead, half-alive.
A wall of squares sits in front of me,
Illuminated only by a few lights. Here, there.

A man passed me on the street and assaulted me.
A man talked to me online and assaulted me.
I told them to "get the fuck away!," nicely.

I deserve to be spoken to as more than pleasure.
I want to feel love, feel loved, and give it back.
Isn't there something better?

27, HAH! More like, 16!
"What is age? Just a number!" a girl told me.
She would be able to tell me what to do with a stalker,
If this one becomes one.

Life begins with me, not with someone else.
Life begins now, not yesterday.
Life begins now, not tomorrow.