I'm tired of being here,

Existing in this place,

With all of these worries,

And all of this anger,

And all of this hoping that lets me down,

And all of these problems,

And all of these people,

Because I will always have to face,

Will always forever know,

That I could be somewhere better

With the people that I love beside me

Who will never leave.

But that "better" is not at this somewhere,

And I will never get to that somewhere,

And the people I love cannot stay forever

In that somewhere,

Because that somewhere is a paradise,

And Death is inevitable,

And Utopias cannot exist here

Because someone is bound to mess it up

By just existing,

By just breathing,

By just speaking.

I hate people who

Don't love

And don't accept others

Just because their beliefs are not the same.

Those types of people

Only destroy,

And are lucky that they even have a name,

Because they sure as hell do not deserve one.

They are lucky that they are even breathing,

Because they sure as hell don't deserve to.

I'm tired of being here

And having to suffer

Because of others' idiotic decisions

And beliefs.

My paradise does not exist here;

It only exists in my mind,

And in another dimension,

And in a whole other reality,

That I cannot reach

Without my imagination,

And without technology

That nobody has.

And therefore,

I can only long for it,

And it hurts,

Because my cravings will never truly be satisfied,

For long or at all.

I can only visit this paradise

In my dreams

And in my thoughts

While music helps

To take me there.

But sometimes

My parents take away

The songs that are my ride,

Saying I don't need

To listen to music 24/7,

But they don't understand

That I do,

Because that's one of the only things

That can truly make me happy anymore,

That can help me destress,

That can help me relax,

That can help me dream.

And my heart longs for

An escape.

And music opens the door

To freedom.

And if I do not have music,

Even for a while,

That door

Seems to close.

And I want it

To be forever open.

And they do not understand

And never will,

Even when they say that they do,

Because they are not me.

They did not grow up like this.

In fact, they are the partial cause

For why I feel this way.

And although it is not entirely their fault,

They still hold some blame.

They do not understand.

They did not experience

The joy that music brings,

The sorrow,

The anger,

The hope.

They did not experience the pure emotion

One can feel

To the intensity that I have.

They did not experience

The strong connection

With the words

And the tunes

And the rhythyms

And the beats

And the melodies

That I have.

They did not experience

The little dance

That you heart does

When one thoroughly enjoys

A song

Like I have.

They did not experience what I have,

When one longs for a new place,

A new world,

A new reality.

Sure, they might have dreamt to

Travel to somewhere new,

Or to just not be here,

Like I have.

Because everyone has

About the same emotions

And capacity to feel

As their neighbors,

And teachers,

And classmates.

But never can they feel things

To the same intensity

As someone else has,

And never have they longed

To go to the same exact place.

Because everyone is different

And complete understanding does not come

To everyone,

And cannot,

For no one shares a brain

Unless they were born

Conjoined at the head

Or unless

They have been through

The same.

I wish someone could relate

As much as I would like them too.

But I will forever know

That that might not happen either.

It is only me, myself, and I up there,

In my mind,

Resting in that perfect paradise,

Relaxing in that tranquil world,

With golden sunflowers and grassy fields

With no annoying bugs,

And blue skies and lovely music,

And beautiful sunsets and sunrises,

And there, freedom reigns,

And animals come to gather 'round

To listen to you talk about your day,

And they run around with you,

And let you cuddle them and pet them,

And let you caress their pelts,

And hold their gentle faces in your cupped hands.

With calming oceans

And their lapping waves,

With sandy beaches,

And fascinating crystals and rocks,

And flower crowns,

And cotton candy,

And there isn't much pain,

Or sadness,

Or discomfort,

And my comfort characters,

And the people that I love,

Will surround me with bright smiles,

And shower me with hugs

And let me know it'll be okay.

But this world can never be true,

And what a lonely world it is,

Because without me reaching it,

It will never be able to exist,

And I will never be there.

And therefore nothing that would have been there

Wouldn't exist either.

What a lonely world it is.

What a lonely world this is.

What a lonely girl I am,

Wanting to receive the love 

That I whole-heartedly give

And never being able

To hold my heart,

And look at it,

And say it is full.