I was bleak
Dying upon the floor
I wished I had sought
The lost
The rare and radiant, the angels

Here

Truly Yours

Some days it’s like your all that I have

Trying to hold on for as long as I can

But in the end, I’m merely just a man

With nothing more then these destructive hands

Question-How do you write?
Answer- I write,
What I have seen
What I have been
What I feel
What I deal
What I realize
What I visualize
What I love
What I observe
What I live
to live....

You told me that
If she makes you want to write poetry
She's special

Does that make you special?
Because you make me want to write poetry

All
The
Time

Turns out
I’m nothing
To anyone I want to matter to

I’ve been told I have walls,
That aren’t too easy to break,
They’ve been up for so long,
That my smile is entirely fake.
They’re made of unshed tears and a broken soul,
Of emotions that have taken their costly toll.
Tear them down if you feel you must,
But it takes too much to gain my trust
Strip me down to every pebble and stone,
Shatter me like a mirror and break me to the bone,
But don’t you see you’ve already lost,
For even my walls have a cost.

He’s no longer responding
It’s perplexing
Because no one knows why
Yesterday he was doing just fine
And in this room it’s frightening quite
Because everyone knows he’s about to die
His mother angrily yells at the doctor
While she stands over his bed
Why! Why!
My baby
This is my son
And he’s not going to die
Devante Devante
I can hear her repeating my name
But the sounds of the world has finally gone mute
And the lights of the room ceiling
Slowly
Fade to black
And if you crying over my shoulder right now
I’m sorry
I tried to fight it
But I just couldn’t fight my way back
I was to lost
Let myself be overcome with pain and misery
Unhappiness was my purgatory
But at what cost
My life
Yes my life
I gave it away
I’d do anything just to feel a little less
It’s why I injected myself
With an illegal amount
Of morphine