You want a poem?

I have nothing to say

The less I write

The more strengthened

I feel towards my words

Sometimes,

I think of taking my hands
And ripping - splitting - cracking,
My ribcage in two.
                                                            ­            
The breastbone splintering apart,
My torso opening like a rotten tree.
The inside hollowed,
Like a lake that has been emptied
 
I've convinced myself that
Fragrant flowers
Would grow there.

That they would grow feverishly
In the gnawing gap
I had created.

And that time would preserve
What I had done.

The sun and the moon; two halves of one,
perfection and ruin, both towards and away you run.
The light and the dark; a balance to complete,
spotless save for a mark, not every goodbye is sweet.

They say you can't **** the future,
it's the future that ***** you.
Not every wound needs a suture,
some things are destined to bleed through.
I'll reveal every reason, a list to only create pain,
it's the end of the season so let's feel the August rain.

The ground and the sky together they create a world,
laughing while you cry, emotions always seem swirled.
The bright and the black; a balance to complete,
a code you can't crack, a win that feels of defeat.

They say you should never waste a day,
because there just might not be a tomorrow.
Not every instinct can be held at bay,
some lives are destined to bathe in sorrow.
I'll treasure every thing about her, she's the one to keep me sane,
but it's the end of the summer so let's enjoy the August rain.

The heat and the cold, they so beautifully compliment,
the young and the old, the strength of detriment.
The colours and the grey, they exist altogether,
but nothing gold can stay and nothing good lasts forever.

Nothing is perfect in this world,
but there's always a balance of symmetry,
the only thing Holy is my girl,
and a prayer was answered when she chose me.
So let's usher the cold harsh breeze in,
and lets feel the heat slowly drain,
'cause it's the end of the season,
so keep me warm in the August rain.

Surely no one is meant to live like this?
Not meant to live in constant fear and pain,
waiting for the evening just for it to rain?

Surely it doesn't make that much sense,
to live in constant regret and sorrow,
unable to make it till tomorrow.

The days pass in a misty haze,
but you are still waiting for the sun.
The stars are vacant in the sky,
but you still wait for them to burn.

Why do you waste away in such a place?
Where your skin is unmarred,
but your heart bears all your scars?

Why must you stay here, broken,
like a porcelain doll that is so, so, fragile.
One touch could break you.

You beg for someone to look below the surface
of the ever-constant ocean in your mind.
But they only dip their feet in the water,
because it is much too cold to stick their head under.

Surely no one is meant to live like this?
Merely surviving until their death.
Never take more than a needed breath,
only an empty shell, uninhabited by any meaning.