My words are never complete,
poems always half finished.
I’ve deleted more then I’ve saved.
When I post my poems they’re never quite finished.
My mind is a mess,
My hopes never realized.
My dreams left unaccomplished.
When I speak to you my words are always half hearted and half complete.
I guess I’m just not the man I thought I’d be
I gave birth to you in the darkest times, nurtured you in the depth of my broken heart.
You’re the depression I created.
the Pain I can’t run away from.
When i thought I was free, you were hiding behind a blinding veil of love.
Killing me with kindness
breaking me while whispering sweet nothings in my ear.
When I’m surrounded by love you make me feel alone.
When there’s Hope you make me see only the darkness that follows the light.
You make me see the shackles on my feet and not the ones in my mind.
You keep me a shallow husk of the man I could have been.
You let me fight just so I can see how hopeless i have become .
everything i write feels incomplete and imperfect. I've not written in so long ill come back to this and try to fix it when i get back into the swing of things.
A second attempt at this poem the first shot is still on my profile
The life we made fell apart as you left me strandad on an island for two
I grew cold and built a pyre and on it i set a fire
I burnt all that we had created.
I burnt the songs created with love, drowned the poems I'd written in pain.
I had forgotten that they were not just words that we had written; they were worlds that we created.
I watched as my word drowned in a see of darkness. As yours burned an ever dwindling flame.
I watched as the world around me crumble as our poems are lost forever .
I’m a broken man in a broken world.
A world that we had created, that i have broken.
Not really a great poem but probably something ill perfect later on. I sadly deleted all the poems i wrote. i'm starting to write again.
I remember sitting with my legs crossed
at an empty parking lot with you.
Burning our lungs,
sharing our deepest secrets at 3am
while I rest my head
on your shoulder that cold summer night.
I sang along our favorite songs
and you wished that time stopped
so we could still be together.
You are still too damaged.
You think too much.
You are too practical.
You are not yet ready for anything.
And I’m left confused
and a little bit hurt, I guess.
So here we are again,
so here we go again.
Who would have thought
that we would actually
burn even faster
than our cigarettes?
I have lived with a singular problem
for 5 years it has remained, at times I believe it to be gone
so used to the life I lead and the way I feel that this has become the norm.
my issue is self created and self sustained,
depression I caused and depression I cannot shake.
For a while it was gone the problems I had caused came to an end, I fixed the one I had broken and in doing so fixed myself.
But all must end and we both broke again with only myself to blame.
This depression is a problem ill never be free of, this seems to be it for me. The repressed nature I have fallen back into is tearing away at who I am. a shadow, a empty husk of a man . unreachable too all but one too all but you, but your far out of reach far away from me. I try my hardest to tear down this prison I am in afraid it will all be in vein. I sink into my depression that I have fought for years past afraid soon it'll be the end