Seeing the flames
   Burning everything in there wake
             Taking my soul down too
   I can't take all this
       For God's sake
    Like a sidewalk massacre
Everyone has to stop and stare
        Watching all the blood drip
    But none of them really care
           Gotta get a grip
I know this life ain't fair
         Trying to balance my thoughts
    On a tight rope of razor blades
Getting sliced up on the inside
      No matter which choice I make
Whether or not I know they lied
           I'll always know they're all fake
   And it's a shame
           That it's always a game
     With no way to win
Or start over again
         Without being the only one to blame

I wonder how you'll react when you find out what I've done
you won't be able to hit me or scold me because, I'll be gone.
But will you cry? Will you feel ashamed? Will you wonder why?
I don't think that you should, because now I'll no longer cry.

So don't ask why,
don't you dare cry...
Please, don't be too upset
I'm getting away from here
and with no regrets.

I never knew how to
write poetry correctly.
It's not like it comes with an
instruction manual
that reads in italicized letters

"dig so deep into your head that if a brain aneurism were to spontaneously combust, you'd be the first to know about it"

No one told me that my emotions
would corkscrew like falling
meteorites every time I picked
up a pen.

No one told me that the thoughts
would sometimes dry up
and leave me searching like
a dog who buried a bone and
then developed a rare type
of amnesia.

No one told me that sometimes
it would be hard to get the words
onto the page without tears
falling like a liquid avalanche.

There was no instruction manual
or italicized letters. There was only me,
and a lot of lessons to learn.

I guess
I'm just scared
You'll wake up one day
And tell me you don't love me
Anymore

Because if you did
I wouldn't know
Where to put
All this love

What are these words?
What are words at all?
Am I expressing?
Am I conveying an ideal?
I don't think I'm using words right.
I think I'm writing wrong.

I used to draw cages,
Cages as open as your mouth,
But as empty as your words.
Cages as cold as winters touch,
But not as frozen as your heart.
Cages so dark and lonely,
A mirror of myself.
I used to draw cages,
Cages that I could never fill,
Because they were
only drawings,
That I drew
Inside
my cell