Mirror, Mirror

This a fond memory 
I pray it’s legible
It’s hard to write on a diary that’s soaked with blood
These damn seasons stabbed me in the back
Slapped in the face with frigid wind gusts
And warmed my heart with mild mid-60s 
Fahrenheit, of course
"""""""
I’ve never had a hero
Well, one that breathed in the summer breeze
They lived on paper… Died there too
I couldn’t live with the disappointment
Of a Christ figure smoking marajuana
All my books are marked with tea drops
Because I found nothing in myself to be desired
When I am sitting here, making a career
But all my imaginary friends are slaying dragons 
Or deriving meaning out of a meaningless world
"""""""
Yes, I’ve cried in my room
How could I not? I’m scared of the dark
I think we’ve all wet the bed before
We all fear what we don’t understand
Even if we did go to bed before the darkness fell
God, it’s hard to sleep in the summer
"""""""
Don’t tempt me with bikini girls
Did you say something? I’m too busy staring awkwardly at the sand
I spent too much time thinking I wouldn’t drown
It’s hard not to be scared of the gentler sex
Getting sucked out to sea sounds better than finding a summer love
Maybe if I act disinterested I’ll find that someone is watching
Maybe if I pretend to hate life, I’ll find that someone is caring
Maybe if I pretend to be silent, I’ll find that someone is listening
"""""""
Probably not.
"""""""
Touching my back makes me nervous
So, excuse me while I squirm as you lean in for a hug
Where did my heroes go now?
Words on paper don’t translate to bravery?
All this talking is fiction, but I hoped it’d get me further than this
Why, when this is all I wanted, I wish I was invisible?
Oh s**t, she’s leaning in for a kiss
"""""""
The air is thick with diesel exhaust
This is where I belong
And maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll forget all these summer regrets
If what I’m inhaling is toxic,
Then, brother, give me more
Who knew fossil fuels defined us?
The scent here is racist. There are whispers of revolution
They say the man who calls the shots is the devil himself
Personally, I think he might just be misunderstood
"""""""
This isn’t my beautiful life
This isn’t my childish fear
How did I get here?
"""""""
See? I’m scared of the elements
Winter is withering me as we speak
But, hope comes with every mild spell
If wasn’t such a bother, 
I might see the reason to give myself crow’s feet