I hate myself I hate how I think
I wish I could be different every time I blink
I wonder what it's like to be someone else
Because I really don't want to be myself
I would give anything to be like her
“She's going to go far in life because her head's on right”
Yeah but mine is twisted and bruised
Yeah i’ll be fine
Yeah I think i’m sure
But i’m the one who’s not bright
Im stupid
Immature
A mess
Right?

I wish I could just be blessed
I get more sad and sad every day
I just don’t want to live this way
I try so hard but what gets in the way is myself!
I hate you
I hate you
I hate you
I don’t even believe in myself and i’m ready to face my true fate

I’ve disappointed everyone enough and
I just want me to be enough for them
not me
THEM!!

A poet is no more than a person
A mother
A daughter
A lover  
Someone needing release
Or someone needing to recover


It’s the art they create when that ball of ink or stick of led dances on the canvas they so perfectly prepared.
And when the end result and their purpose become perfectly paired.