What's more difficult in life,
than living with yourself.

Old poems.
Old me.

Lonely nights like these I wonder if I really still exist if I'm not so full of youth. I'm still young, but it feels like there's something missing in my heart everyday.
I miss who I once was.

That boy who was always trying to impress.
I feel I've given up in a sense. On being me, like an empty slate was the best form of self preservation. It's sad.

Like a character born from trauma, that's so colorless.

It's hard to differentiate sometimes, if I've missed you, or myself more. Or what we had, the innocence disappeared so quickly. Too quickly.

The air I breathe, gold and dreams.
You are everything I need.

Nothing else compares.

Through life and death, I know our love will be written on our graves, among many others, our love would never fade.

Kept through dirt, mold, and dust.
Come dawn, come dusk.

I'll always love you.

Your laughter,
Calming like chamomile,
Sweet like honey,
Sleep easy with your laughter in my mind,
My dream are just reality.

Wake up, honey.

Let me hear your laughter,

Again.

In denial, full of ****.
A protector of nothing.
Selfish to all ends.
Placing blame, but I didn't put her on those meds.

What is a man made of?
My father made mistakes I swore I'd never make.
But now I feel like the man I never wanted to be.

Are all men doomed from the moment they're born? Cursed to be the means of their brethren, fathers, and grandfathers?

God, am I a failure in your eyes?
I need hope for the man I wish to be, but the look in her glossy eyes tells me otherwise.
I've lied through my teeth, God.
Before you, and before her, before my own mother.
I'm lost, Father, am I ******?