I use to think that being on the outside looking in,
was the perfect life for me.
I did not love, or care, nor even hate,
I was completely free.

It was so much easier to be,
on the outside looking in.
There wasn't anyone there to hurt me,
or keep me from sin.

As the time had slowly passed me by,
sadness entered my empty heart.
I had become so very lonely,
I realized it's been there from the start.

And in the glass I was looking through,
my reflection I did see.
A sad and lonely, broken man,
who definitely wasn't free.

The pain was visible, and all to real,
in this reflection of a man.
Now he's older, the time has passed,
this wasn't part of the plan.

Though he see's a need to change,
and he knows it must be done.
It seems so much easier,
just to turn around and run.

No matter how hard he try's,
nobody want's him there.
They blow him off, and ignore him,
very few seem to care.

When I first came here, many years ago.
The words flowed freely, my feelings you would know.
I made many friends, and I felt like I was home.
But then there was some drama, and I began to roam.

Not long after that, my dear friend Patty died.
He was a poet here, and I ran away to hide.
So now its been some time, and I have again returned.
And in my travels since, I'll tell you what I've learned.

As long as I sit behind this computer, and type on these black keys.
I'm missing all that does exist, and I'm wondering who I should please.
In one hand I have an online life, with "friends" I do not know.
And in the other hand, I have myself, and the life I wish would flow.

I left the computer to live my life, I hope you understand.
And I found some happiness, and hope, that was not planned.
Get away from this world my friends, it feeds the dark inside.
Find yourself, and love yourself, so you never need to hide.

Lately I've been a little depressed,
My life hasn't turned out the way I had wanted it to.
I guess many could say the same thing,
but I really don't know what to do....

Yes I write about killing myself,
the thought really has crossed my mind.
However, I also think about the ones I love,
they have all been so very kind.

I would never want to hurt them,
as my death would surely do.
And so I continue through this life,
not knowing what to do.

I feel so **** inadequate,
and ignorant as well.
It seems no matter how hard I try,
my life is always hell.

I know I should feel happy,
and smile and laugh and play!
But then I would be living a lie,
each and every day.

I guess I've fallen out of love,
for myself these last few years.
But that's the life I've chosen...
Sad and full of tears.

When a person looks at me,
they see what they want to see.
Usually they think I'm normal,
they think I'm smart, they think I'm...
But they don't see the difficulties I have,
They don't understand, nor do they want to.
I feel so lonely, because of what they see.
because whoever there looking at, it certainly isn't me...

Sometimes when the days get long and boring,
the tiredness enters my restless mind.
My body becomes limp and fatigued,
and thoughts of suicide I will soon find.

As I close my eyes and think about my life,
I can only think about moving forward instead.
Moving from this life and into the next,
Passing on from the living and into the dead.

Its not a painful feeling that I have,
filled with anger, hate, or spite.
But a feeling of peace and serenity,
something that feels right.

Nobody I've told about this understands,
instead they think I should want to live.
But how can someone want to live,
when they have nothing left to give?

A pen and paper is all I would need.
The words would come through me, for all to read.
Happiness and sorrow, bitterness and grief.
Some poems would be long, others would be brief.

Then one day, silence, I had felt.
Emptiness filled me, in this place where I knelt.
I could not speak, a word or a sound.
My voice had been lost, no where to be found.

Depression filled my heart and mind.
Still the words, I could not find.
The darkness growing ever so.
Soon the tears, began to flow.

Can the words just leave you?
Without a goodbye?
Does the writing just stop?
Or was it all just a lie?

I am forcing myself to write this now.
With the hope, that I can remember how.
Searching for the words, is a struggle true.
With an empty mind, not knowing what to do.

When we were five and six,
we took the time to care.
Our emotions would run wild,
and our friends were always there.

Life was always so simple,
and playtime was always fun.
Every time we became afraid,
to our mommy's we would run.

But when we became nine and ten,
pain would enter our heart.
We started doubting ourselves,
and our lives were torn apart.

Friendships didn't last long,
and secrets were never kept.
nightmares stole your dreams from you,
in the bed where you had slept.

Teenage years were a living hell,
with hormones out of control.
We did things that we knew were wrong,
such as... lied, cheated, and stole.

The kids you were once friends with,
you avoid as much as you can.
For whatever the reason you think you had,
there was nothing "cool" with them.

Our twenties were a time to party,
And we thought that we knew it all.
Then when we would get in trouble,
It was our parents we would call.

The friends we had in school are gone,
we went our separate way.
It's a struggle to get by now,
we live from day to day.

And then the thirties come,
our lives have settled down.
Most are married with kids,
or getting drunk in town.

It's harder to make friends now,
you need your kids help with that.
Or you buy yourself a puppy dog,
maybe a ***** cat...

Your probably wondering what's the point,
of this poem that seems to be.
Well this is it, I'll tell you now,
so that maybe you will see.

I was happy when I was five and six...
that is the truth I swear.
After that, things went to hell,
and it really isn't fair!!

So I hope you like this poem,
and yes... I'm having some cheese with my whine.
Even though I feel like crap,
I tell everyone I'm fine.