Deepest pain is the one in secret,
a smile covering up a hurt.
One can seem so happy,
he seems fulfilled. But alas; just pieces.

The greatest pain,
the one they don't know.
Agony is a song,
sung by my heart in secret.
Which sounds like the blues
pouring out of my soul.

The last struggle felt,
is extreme pain in the nights
Hiding behind the lights of day.
We're all broken sometimes,
but we love to say, "we're okay".

Really why I love to suffer alone
isn't me being selfish with my pain.
When you grew up being told to be a man
crying in secret is all you know.

I'm best to be silent,
crying tender whispers of pain.
These tears will remain pouring down,
forcing me to stop being quiet.
For after the cloudy weather comes the
sun after the rain.

So goodbye to the agony,
and it's secrets.
I break down to be rebuilt from broken pieces.

she looks at the moon
And still see his face,even brighter

"I atleast deseved a goodbye"

You are remarkable
Don’t forget it

The world
May tell you
You are not good enough
to be there

But listen to the
Little voice in your head
Saying
You don’t need the world
You have you
And your tribe

Your eyes tell me how you really feel
The once bright stars I used to see
Are now lost in your blue eyes sea
The glowing is gone
And I know
I will never have you
The way that I used to

One night the wind walked
amid the silvery clouds
singing in choir with the stars
swaying the trees and marking
the love's path in the lunar gardens.

Transparent terrestrial plains
called the mountains to sing
while the snow slid larghetto
to trace the glazing route with love's
cabalistic path till the lunar gardens.

Oh well, another thought just set sail

I make coffee at 3 am
and take it out to the porch
nursing the heat
between my freezing fingers

the stars smile down on me
I spell your name
like a new constellation
but I can't find you

here

when you sleep it's like you never cried,

breathing soft and steady, wet cheeks dried.



when you sleep it's like you never lost,

boundaries weren't broken and lines weren't crossed.



when you sleep it's like you're still there,

and you still smile and you still care.



when you sleep you look young as I,

no crease in your brow and no old worn sigh.



and so if sleep is death just being shy,

is it still so wrong,

to wish

to die?

When I was a child,
I was taught poetry wasn't mild,
It was deep as the sea,
And it seemed truly unachievable for me.
I was taught poetry had to rhyme,
Every single line, every single time.
So poetry seemed out of my reach,
Like chasing a seagull down a beach,
Jumping ever so slightly away,
Or soaring into the sunny day.

So I never thrived for what I thought would,
No, Could
Never be.

I guess now I'm fixing the mistakes of past me.

I miss the feeling of your red nails coiled around my neck
It would feel like cold lightning striking my spine
My face would flush
And I was electrified

Now there were two of them
Separated between thousands
of read texts and timely
chats touched by sound
but not skin  
Awake in the others sleeping
Sleeping in the others awake  
Restless as they wait
Restless as they wait

your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about
you;

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you

I drink Redbull for dissociation,
Trying to caffeinate my desperation,
As if I could vibrate into the 4th dimension
To find myself again.

If you could read my mind,
You’d see a thousand papers
Filled with broken poetries
And deadbeat proses
Full of woeful verses
With mournful pieces
Of unfinished stories
That are yet to be written
And failed to be spoken;
If you could read my mind,
You’d hear horrible screams
And earsplitting weeps
From shattered dreams,
Kept in a nasty notepad,
Scribbled on a bed
Of bloodstained words,
Ringing in my head.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the shadows
That lurk within me;
You’d hear the bellows,
Screeching the words
“I’m tired,”
“I’m a failure,”
“I’m stupid –”
I know it sounds stupid,
It’s pathetically foolish
And seems like *******.
If you could read my mind,
You’d feel the tears
I had ever failed to cry;
You’d see the people
That make the weak weaker;
You’d see the monsters
That consume my head;
You’d hear the hollers
That failed to be freed;
You’d see the heart
That still bleeds and bleeds.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the face
I’ve failed to show back then,
The face I’ve faked back then.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a character
I had ever failed to become
If you could read my mind,
You’d be able to read
A book you never wished
To touch and read,
But sometimes I still wish
Someone could read my mind.

I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.

Break my bones;
cut my throat.
Pull me open,
learn the ropes.

Breath me in;
taste the fear.
Shank my skin;
stand and cheer.

Kick my head;
let me bleed.
Unbolt my veins;
enjoy the read.

Gouge my eyes;
punch my face.
Wrap me up
in your embrace.

Infant to grown man
is the blink of an eye,
The day of your birth
I held you in one arm,
so big now you have
grown I doubt I could
pick you up to save my
life.

Strong like a bull, your
friends call you "The Beast"
but to me you will always
be that little baby in my arms.

What pleases me most is though
grown big and imposing, your
character and personality remains
humble, gentle and sweet as can be.
I tell everyone I know,
"There is no brag in that boy."

You are the most grounded and
together 17 year old man I have
ever known and you shall remain
forever my favorite Grandson.
(Along with your brother of course)

You ask for my thoughts on what I see,
my opinion, mademoiselle, is you put a spell on me

The wall is my punching bag
and your face is my inspiration.
Even when my knuckles sag,
there is no hesitation.

I have bruises on my fingers
but it is not the wall's fault.
It is the surge of my anger's
and they make my fists stronger.

The poison you poured in me
is overflowing the bottle.
Every punch the wall meets
is every sip of my struggle.

The pain is sinking in
and it feels worse than the bruises.
It's buried deeper within
so I dig but it refuses.

The wall is nothing
to what festers inside.
My punches do nothing
and there is nowhere to hide.

The disease is within me
and it is thriving in my mind.
The only way out is nowhere in sight.
I looked to my fists to set myself free
but my fists have no eyes
so I cannot see.

Now, my arms deserve to rest.
I'll even bid them a good night
because today won't be the worst
and I'll need them another time.

I’m old enough now to see
that the only thing
ever holding me back
was me
No one blocks me from the sunset
no one keeps me from it’s rising
So now I’m riding
through my open country

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)

Cycles of dawn and dusk pass,
creep around in long shadows
as emotions thaw.
I’m no longer trapped in
the tangled fibers of existence.
I am existence:
the definition of survival.
Former victim to the
relentless pulls of the universe
I now wear my own rings,
have my own orbit.
I dreamt myself a world:
full of meaning and purpose.

Yay let's ban the holiday where people wear masks