Who would I be without poetry?
My thoughts and feelings cannot be set free.
Chaos and fear,
would not disappear.

Without poetry
how can I escape reality?
And enter a dream
as peaceful as a stream.

How would I be without poetry?
Unwell and filled with misery.
Diseased,
if its existence would ceased.

How would I mend my heart
if it was torn apart?
There won’t be a cure
for feelings that are unsure.

How could I see the beauty in me
if it wasn’t for poetry?
Who would I be
without poetry?

I can see the stars from afar.
I used to wonder what they are.
A ball of light,
shining so bright at night.
And as I grow,
many stars started to glow.
But it was all just an illusion,
the light we’re seeing comes from a beautiful explosion.
Those lights are from  dead stars in the past.
But because they’re so beautiful in infinity they last.
The beauty within its chaos
are scattered throughout the cosmos.
I can see the stars from afar,
and how beautifully chaotic they are.

Life will always try to bring you down.
Strife will always come around.
It’s up to you to fight your demons.
It’s up to you to destroy what you’ve summon.

Don’t let them devour you.
You are the one who created your demon.
You will be the one to destroy them to.

Fight them with your strength.
With hope you can never be bent.
Soon it will all be over,
and make hope your power.
So don’t let them beat you down,
hope will always come around.

Have you ever love a broken man,
and mend his broken heart?
A heart that was beautifully torn apart.
Have you ever healed him with your smile?
Have you ever gave him strength when he was at his weakest point?

If you have, please, mend my broken heart.
Heal me with your smile.
Give me strength.

Have you ever wipe her tears?
Have you ever made her frown disappear?
Did you make her smile when she was  sad?
And made her calm when she was mad?

I have, I’ve wiped her tears,
and made her frown disappear.
My words made her smile when she was sad.
I’ve managed to make her calm when she was mad.

So let me love you,
Let me make you happy when you’re feeling blue.
Let me make you smile.
I’ll travel with you every single mile.
Let me give you pleasure cos that’s all I want to do.
So fix me by loving you.

As the sun dies,
and blood colors the skies.
As the dark rises,
I see death before my eyes.
Along with the mighty moon,
the dead will shine soon.

These bright ***** of light,
it is death itself.
We may see them shine so bright,
but before our eyes we see death and all its beauty.
And we fall in love with it dangerously.

We write because we can feel,
We write because our lips are sealed.
We cannot say our thoughts, so we write.
A poets mind.
Filled with thoughts that are ready to be written.
A mind like the ocean so deep and wide.

But a true poet doesn’t write from his mind,
a poet writes from his heart.
A heart that was torn apart.
A poet writes his pain and sufferings.
Poems that are dark and deep,
and when you read them it makes you weep.

A poet writes wonderful thoughts of the heart.
Even if a poets heart was torn apart.
A poet do not think, a poet feels.
And a poet writes what he feels.
His thoughts never comes from the mind,
it's the heart that commands a poet every time.

Words cannot explain,
and all I feel is sadness and pain.
And in my heart a sword was pierced,
in my eyes are sorrow and tears.
The world is breaking me,
it has chained my spirit that wants to be free.

Remembering how I used to be,
all those joyful memories
now it’s breaking me.
Ruins, all that’s left of me,
a ruined memory.
I can’t escape reality,
I’m not the man that I used to be.

I tried to pick up the broken pieces.
Tried to glue them together but it falls back into pieces.
I tried to travel places to find new pieces.
But no matter what I do,
the pieces can never be glued.

I think of things I cannot say,
these thoughts of me haunts me day by day.
So I write.
I write to keep these monsters away.
I write so that the good memories will stay,
and the bad ones won’t cause dismay.

I write so I can sleep.
I write when I weep.
I write to clear my mind.
I write if I’m not fine.
I’ll write about the finest wine.
I write if I have time.

I’ll write these memories of mine.
I’ll write words so sweet for the woman I’ll love.
I’ll write stories about angels from above.
I’ll write tales of demons.
I’ll write about people’s creations.

In my writings are words so deep,
that will make the bravest men weep.
And strong men weak.
Write poems that the ladies will seek.
They’ll fall in love with my words so sweet.
So I’ll write all the way.
I’ll write, till the end of my days.

People tell me stories, so I listen
to their tales of heroism.
They fought their demons,
the demons of their own.
Knowing that the results are unknown,
they fought for greatness.
Some succeeded, some failed.

They’ve been through hell,
and live to tell the tale.
Greatness is what they reach for,
but some wanted more.
Blinded by the ambition of being great,
they live a life full of hate.

Those who were not humble,
they suffered and crumble.
But for those who stayed true,
greatness came with no further ado.
Their greatness became a virtue.
We can be great to.
Some day it will come true.

And if it does,
be humble, because it’s a must.
Don’t let the dark side of greatness devour you,
just stay true.
Remember your roots,
for they are the ones you will salute.