There are so many things to do
Places to be
Things to say
People to meet.

So don’t purposefully die any time soon. Thank you.

I thought you were a poem
And then you were a song
Or maybe even a dance
So graceful and strong.

I thought you were a poem
But you seemed like a dream
I thought you were a poem
But you’re really many things.

It’s so loud
Silence is scarce
So much sound
Thinking about it makes me hoarse.

There’s only a few sounds
The buzz of humanity
Yet it is so loud
I’m bound to lose my own sanity.

Silence still stifles me
And yet I still long
For both sound to leave me be
And to hear humanity’s song.

I scream
But silence
Shushes me.

My world crashes down
As yours still stays the same.

I can’t seem to react
As others would
I can’t seem to feel
As others would
I’m not completely sure
I’m able to feel at all.

This world keeps on getting darker
We have surpassed the marker
Of no return.

I’m missing something
I never had
How sad
What a tragedy
It’s bad, but she
Never left me
I left her.

If lies are burdens
I should be squashed
And flattened by now.

Anybody else
Would be okay
But here I am
Broken and frayed.

I never knew
How much it’d cost
To simply stay the same.

I never knew
How much it’d mean
If my savior ever came.

I never knew
.
.
.
I wish I did.

My mask is on so much
It has become an appendage on my face.

I will never be part of the mob
Sorry to disappoint, Mom.

I can’t seem to contort myself
Into expectations I never wanted.

What a shame,
What a shame you say.

What a shame?
Shame for what?
Being interesting?
That’s not how I see it.

Boring people are lowly peasants
And us peculiars are the kings!

One I start I cannot stop
So much to be said
All stuffed in my head
Thoughts creep shyly out
They soon get comfortable and run about
There’s not enough room on this page
To fit the thoughts that live in my brain-cage
So I won’t try.

I’m a run-on sentence
Too much work to be payed attention

I feel smeared
Like a cloud
Or gel pen ink.

S      M            E         A        R         E          D

Love shatters like ice.
To be more specific
It shatters people.

Love is strong
People are not
Specifically me.

I remember you
You’re not you
Anymore.

No
You’re you
Just another version
Less innocent.

Me too.

I want to know what you want me to do
So I can do the opposite.

You are something I cannot control
So is that
And that
And that
And literally anything else.

How am I supposed to control those when I can’t even control my own life?

I wish I could believe the things I told you.

I can’t feel my pulse
I’m afraid I don’t want to
Do I want to?
I don’t know.

Im fire
You’re water
And dirt
You try to stifle me
I suffocate

w h e r e i s m y o x y g e n

I’m dying
Where are you
I need you

i n e e d y o u

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAhAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAeAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAlAAAAAAAAAAAAApAAAAA AAAAAmAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAeAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAApAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAlAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAeAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAsAAAAAAAAAAAAAeAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAhAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAeAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAlAAAAAAApAAAAAAAAAAA

I collapse
Relapse
Back to
What I was before.

It hurts to the core
Don’t think I can take anymore
My heart is sore
Because of what, I’m not sure.

But something is missing
Me and sadness are reminiscing
But without pleasure
Stumbled upon it
Like a bitter angry treasure.

Maybe what’s missing is me.

I crave approval from everyone
Yet I promote individuals,
I want to know I am wanted
But do not want to know I am “cool”.

“Sanity is not statistical”
According to George Orwell
You cannot measure
Human brain-power
Insanity
Or any of the like.

No percents
Or dotted graphs
Can show you if you’re crazy.

You might be the crazy one
Or the world is the one who’s wrong.

You can never be certain
On how’ll it’ll turn out.

All you can do
Is be extremely convinced about how it’ll turn out.

I’m bored so I’m writing a poem
But I’m not in my writing zone
So there’s no hidden meaning
No ranting or screaming
All I’m doing is writing a poem.

A picture is worth a thousand words
According to many people,
They’ll just have to deal with it,
As my drawing skills are so bad
They could be considered evil.

Don’t cry
You’re gonna be ok
Don’t cry
Don’t cry
Don’t cry
Or I will too.

Because we’re not ok

She’s sad
She pretends to be glad.

She’s angry at the world
Her inner fists are curled.

One time,
Something sad was happening
Someone told her she was still smiling
She forgot to take of her mask.

You asked what I thought
I told you
You told me that I was wrong
How can an opinion be wrong?

If you didn’t want my thoughts don’t ask for them

I thought you were ok
Guess it was too early to say.

Now you collapse in my arms
Your walls fall down, broken charms.

Your tears soak me to the bone
I feel cold, you feel alone.

You’re not alone.

I cry
These lies
I’m not fine
Can’t we just be kind?

Top 3 types of people who probably need a therapist

1. Poets

Have you seen the poems here?! Most are about pain, cutting, depression, suicide, ex’s, breakups, feeling too much, and so much more. Most of us probably need a visit to the loony bin!

2. Musicians

Again, y’all feel as much as an elephant weighs, which is a lot! This means you feel lots of sadness, fear, and anger. Also, all good songs are about an artists emotional angst. So, yeah.

3. Artists
No one can beautifully paint, sculpt, and draw naked people stabbing  each other and still be sane. And also, what’s bad for the heart, is good for art. Art is filled with sadness, fear, and anger.

So, my point is, we’re all insane. Including me. See you at the wacky shack!

You give me pain you drive me insane but that’s ok because today I produced something magic from all of the pent up sadness you begot

I tried to give up
And it seemed like I was being stubborn
I can’t even give up right!

I love you
But you
Can’t stand me
You see
An annoying pest
That’s best
To ignore

Self-attack
Self-absorbed
Self-aghast
Self-abhorred

Sunshine and butterflies
Don’t live in this world of mine
I never new how to not fail
I think I’ll just stop trying

I’m sorry
I was such a worry
I’m not my sister
You wished her
Niceness would bleed into me
No
My wrists are unscathed
I’m afraid that’ll change

I never knew how to act
I’m sad
I never knew I was this bad
That’s a lie
I just never tried
Making a wall
Within my own mind
Doing without thinking

Would you recoil
Your wonderful touch
If you saw a few of my scars?

Would you walk away
If I told you just
How many times I’ve been marred?

Or would your embrace get tighter
Your love for me stronger?
Would you still be willing
To give me a sky full of stars?

The sunset shines so stunningly
These pretty pinks so ennobling
A colorful chromatic symphony
Ending so freaking quickly
Fading into night.

Falling
            Falling
                        Falling
Falling into space
Not a trace
Of fear on this dazed face
Falling
           Falling
                       Falling
Not even do I feel
The ground, must not be real
But it is, I hear my screams peal
Off the walls of this dark tunnel.

You set me free
Inspire me
Inspire epiphanies
Inspire word and deed.

You never fail to make me cry
Though I could never say goodbye
To you as you also give me highs
Make me feel like I floated up into the sky.

I will never let you go
You will never be my foe
Oh, how I love you so!
For you never give me true woe.

Bet you didn’t know
I was talking ‘bout books, yo!

How dare you call my best friend a thot
What a demon your father begot

Why? ‘Cause she was your ex?
Bruh, that was in SIXTH GRADE!

WHAT THE LIVING HECK?!

Betrayal, lies and fire
All gather and conspire
None of them ever tire
In the game to ruin me.

All is dark where light go dies
Rotting flesh and buzzing flies
Acid rain and burnt-red skies
In the place where evil resides.

A hell all inside a person
Where the adversary would be found spittin’ and cursin’
Several demons mix up a death potion
A sea of red, a burgundy ocean.

Oh, and I mustn’t forget
This is the place your personality is set.

Many of times a day
I feel worn and wearied away.
Until I am reduced
And a pile of me-dust is produced.

If I am fire
You are dirt
Suffocating and snuffing
Me out