If not for my sharpie
My wrists would have more scars
My sharpie is my substitute
For objects that are sharp
So instead of carving my wrists
I draw on them instead
If not for my sharpie
I truly would be dead
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 7:55 AM UTC
People wonder why
I write poetry
Poetry is a rapless rap
A beatless beat
An instrument free song
Poetry Is an express thing
And nothing you say is wrong
Poetry is not judgmental
It doesn't break others hearts
It helps you out
When you have doubt
It is a form of art
This is my canvas
My words are the paint
I make no masterpiece
But in poetry
there is no mistake
So to answer you're question
I'll be concise
I write poetry
because it is nice
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 7:54 AM UTC
Love is confusing
I really don't get it
Some days I really wish
That I could just forget it
Some days I feel like I'm normal again
That your out of my head
But then one look in your ocean blue eyes
And that's it
I've fallen in love again
Apr 25, 2017
Apr 25, 2017 at 3:03 PM UTC
If Roses grow in Heaven,
Lord please pick a bunch for me,
Place them in my Father's arms
and tell him they're from me.
Tell him I Love him and miss him,
and when he turns to smile,
place a kiss upon his cheek
and hold him for awhile.
Because remembering him is easy,
I do it every day,
but there's an ache within my heart
that will never go away.
Apr 24, 2017
Apr 24, 2017 at 2:59 PM UTC
Roses aren't always red
& voilets aren't exactly blue,
The society we live in
Never seems to speak the truth.
Smiles aren't always happy
& frowns aren't always upset,
People judge too quickly
our feeling are what they forget.
Apr 24, 2017
Apr 24, 2017 at 7:52 AM UTC