Roaring with colours
Wonderful and bright
Filled with the people
Who bring me such light

Dyed with their colours
All the reds and the blues
Staining my heart
Creating a wonderful work of art

A little bit of each person
Some a little more
Mixing new tones everyday
As each day its like an all out war

The colors they contrast
Making me who I am
Though some overpower me
Destroying parts of who I am

Though in the end I'm still me
Influence and painted by the people
Even if some parts are grey, dark and black
The rest is beautiful filled with the light of my history

From the colors of the rainbow and everything unseen
A walking masterpiece of colors
Drenched with dripping paint
Leaving my own mark on many others

Adding my own touch to who they are

when you left
i cried
but somehow
when i returned home
i smiled
i felt reassured
you know me
you get me
you understand me
thank you
for being the first person
to read my poetry
and the last person
to make me realize
i am worth something
you mean the world to me
you gave me a home
when i never thought
i would feel at home again
you gave me your hand
and helped me find mine
you were
the first person
to read my poetry
and the last person
i will ever really
say goodbye to

will you forgive me
for all the terrible things i've said
for all of the mistakes i have yet to correct
for all the times i thought i wasn't good enough
for every tear that has fallen for someone that has not deserved it
for every time i wrote a poem and didn't tell the whole truth
for every opportunity i've said no to
for every time i didn't respect myself as much as i should have
for every person i have disappointed

i will.

i will forgive myself
for all the terrible things i've said
for all of the mistakes i have yet to correct
for all the times i thought i wasn't good enough
i will forgive myself
for every tear that has fallen for someone that has not deserved it
for every time i wrote a poem and didn't tell the whole truth
for every opportunity i've said no to
for every time i didn't respect myself as much as i should have
for every person i have disappointed
i will forgive myself
and
i will forgive myself for ever even thinking that i would not

man it’s twee heaven
i’m in a coffee shop reading malcolm gladwell
trying to ignore the hippie barista
and a sensitive young patron
as they compare their hard life and times
a dude comes in, a famous mess
barefoot, pajama bottoms and drunker than a tavern
"can i have a free french cappuccino?"
the barista says yes and while she makes it
he leans into my space making comments
he’s way too smashed to deliver with any trace of pinache
"here’s…  this guy…"
she gives him his coffee
"oh man… it’s not french…"
he staggers out of the place, cup in hand
the kid customer asks if he comes in a lot
"he’s been in here a few times," says the barista
"the guy ever wear shoes?" i ask
"i don’t judge," she says, lip ring quivering
no judging from her, except for me--
constructing a gallows and sentencing me to hang
for being old, male and normal
well she’s got me there

i see the flyer at starbucks

"are you caucasian?
without mental health
and drug problems?"

wow
i don’t know the answer to any of these questions
is a jew a caucasian?
is the occasional naked, ****-slamming drunken rampage
a drug problem?
as for mental health
i’m a deadbeat poet and unpopular pop musician
i’ve got a job fighting death and boredom
and i just changed my facebook password to "eat ****"
my frustrations have driven weaker souls to homicide
but are these PROBLEMS?

I am seventeen years old
And I’m sitting at the bottom of my tub.
I’ve cracked my wrists open like the windows in my room-
I’m trying to let some light in
I need to breathe fresh air into my body.
this is the only way I know how
I have closed the curtains,
boarded up the doors.
you had a key
And you trekked in mud and pine needles from the giant spruce tree outside.
I pick them out of my hair
And line them up on the side of the stained porcelain tub.
I am thinking of putting out a foreclosure sign in my front yard-
Abandoning these halls and leaving everything but this stained tub behind.
Seventeen is hard and rough,
It had calloused hands and it took things from me I wasn’t ready to give.

- I am twenty now
- And I’ve redone my home and tore out the stained tub

Screams of pain can't be heard in a storm
Nor tears of sadness within in the Rain

Like how writing poetry won't heal our broken hearts
Though they sure as hell prevent us from falling Apart

Slicing our wrists till we bleed and cry
Wont stop this Terrifying pain inside

Putting on a mask filled with beautiful creations
Even if everyone knows its merely an Illustration

Alcohol and spirits only dull our inner feelings
Its a temporary solutions that prevents us from healing

Hardening our shell and pushing people away
Only sets ourselves up to be Betrayed

Relying on drugs and substances unknown
Burdens us down to the very bone

Though we know that these things wont help
We desperately try everything in an attempt to save ourselves

Though some survive and others move on
There are still many fighting, struggling to stay Strong

And so whatever pushes you through the day
The good the bad or whatever comes your way

Get through till the dawn of the morning
That way we won't leave anyone behind Mourning

So through the screams in the storms and the tears in the rain
Just do your best to ignite your Flame

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