Artists are often
broken people
using the fragments of themselves
to create something new
and although
being healed
feels so complete
sometimes i want to be broken again
sometimes i want open wounds
so i can use the blood
to paint sunsets
so i can use the torn off pieces of skin as a canvas
so i can carve
masterpieces with the jagged bones left behind
but I can't bring myself to break my own heart in the name of Art

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

I write as a release
A way to find some inner peace
Between long stretches of fake smiles
And lies that never cease

Late nights on my laptop
Are the only way to stop
The negative thoughts and feelings
From flooding my entire being

Poetry is the drain
For the overflowing bathtub of my brain
The little bit of truth that seeps out
About all of my pain

Loops and whorls made with a pen
The only way I can find Zen
Thank God for these words
They’ve saved me yet again