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Every poet has a truth.
The truth is, poets can lie.
Poets can lie and hide the truth.
Poets can also disguise a beautiful truth as a sinful lie.

We poets don't back down easily.
We poets want to win every conversation.
We very much prefer to raise our pens
To record our artful manipulation.

We write about our sorrows
Our nearest and dearest know nothing of.
We write about our joys
Our greatest challengers want to dispose of.

Do we know someone who knows us better?
Do we know someone who knows who we are?
Do we know if we are anything else but poets?

We are all the same.
You are human, as am I.
You see it straight, I see it in rhymes.
You like it easy, I like it fly.
You hear it quick, I take my time.
Do you know why?

'Coz every poet has suffered a lie.
A lie that ignites a fire for truth.
Poets can write the truth whilst hiding the lies.
How can we not, when -
We poets can disguise a painful lie as a beautiful truth?
believe me when i say
that these scars
are not a reminder of you
believe me, these scars
are a reminder
of how deep my love can be
these scars are not about you
Stuck in the fight for what is right only to fall everytime you try.
My Dad died, I'm shaking at night thinking about it. Why did he have to leave me when I need direction?
Every girl I've tried to get with realizes how messed up I am and leaves. Why do I seek worth in a partner?  
I'm not innocent or guitless, don't mistake this for me pretending to be a victim of this system.
Call me mad
nevertheless
I truly believe a life  
Without poetry
Would be a poorer life
A less happy life
an artless life  
A life without color
A life without tongue
no sounds to be heard
A life empty
of any real meaning
yesterday
needs today
to make its way
into the past
to have its say
that it's okay
with yesterday
as today
looks forward to
tomorrow
to leave behind
the sorrow
that was today
in its wake
to become
yesterday
She came to me broken,
shattered like a priceless vase,
she was whitering away right before my eyes,
like a long lost puppy without a home,
she said she fell in love,
we found each other in darkness,
with our hands held out we found our way,
but little did I know that her love was rotting day after day,
even though when I found her I was also half dead,
I ripped myself apart to make her whole again,
I loved her more than love thought possible,
but it was never enough,
she threw me away,
cast aside where I belong,
a worthless love,
now I lay broken,
now I lay dead
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