When I think too much I become a poet.
I imagine
I am an abstract art of my inner thoughts  for display on the web with open interpretations to judge.

When I was growing up
Teachers would tell me how I had bad grammar.
I imagine
They were stubborn artists that was too obsessed with traditional art.
But I was too abstract for them to understand  with my cavemen writing .

But in poetry.
I imagine
I can be anything.

Have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror
while in tears, you're telling yourself repeatedly:
just hang on, one more day, hour, minute, second..
but you feel and look so helpless..?

You talk about pills.
The right combination,
Down them so easy,
Death comes so quickly.

You talk about razors.
The way they glide across your skin,
How much you love the pain,
The deadly scars
the cold metal leaves behind.

You talk about happiness,
And your lack thereof.
And I wonder what I can ever do
To make you feel genuinely happy.

You talk about hate.
How you feel your family
Doesn’t like you,
So why should anyone else?

You talk about pain.
How there’s so much of it.
You keep it bottled inside.
Pressure on your skull.

You talk about death.
And how if you weren’t
Afraid of the pain,
You’d be gone by now.