The saddest thing about being me

Is the parts that don't get to be

That with all I give it wont be recieved

Rejected or I will be deceived

My truth is not just what is perceived

It's the scars on my heart for all to see

The longing to let my heart be free

Broken and battered total calamity

It's the love I've given and never returned

How that make my soul yearn

To find the one that I can let my guard down

And i can really let it be seen

Who this man truly could be

If we can never sail the ocean
We’ll still dream of the sea;
all have their own notion,
Of what it means to be free.

I haven’t been myself lately,
And by lately I mean about 6 or 7 years.

I cannot compose brilliant poems, sonnets, or verses,

and I cannot speak to you in Latin or Greek;

I cannot move you with any language made up by man.

Love is the only only language I could touch you with

If you only knew how much I could love you.

If you knew I love you;

If I were brave enough to tell you at all.

years in one place
it takes time to mold
and shed the dead weight