Sometimes I want to write.
Sometimes I want to cry.
Sometimes, I want to take it cut by cut.
Slit by slit, of my wrist.
Except that's not all that I want.
But I think of it.
And I want to cry, because
I act tough
And smile.
I act happy
And outgoing.
But really, I want to cry.
Sometimes even die.
Because every little thing in my life
It feels as if a building lost its roof,
And feels weak.
Even if it still has its foundation.
But I will hold that in,
Because my beams are still standing.
Sometimes I don't know what to write,
But that is my blood shed onto paper.
And I know that if I think about these actions that
I dont want to put
into reality,
I will write.
Sometimes the finished product
Isn't always good,
But
‘Bad poems show true emotions’
Between the lines.
These are my true emotions.

i am at peace now.
when i once thought you'd never leave.
i step into this place
which was once my safe place,
interrupted by you.
but this time,
it is not an interruption.
for i am no longer searching your face
in a crowd
nor your name in a room.
I
am finally my safe place.
because i am no longer your free campsite.
you are now a leace
that is for sale,
no longer taken
no longer wasted.
this is now,
you are now
a goodbye.

if your writing my story,
erase his chapter.
where he said he loved me.
but love,
wasn't it.
he played me.
faked me.
lied to me.
there was no we
its was only me.
I gave it all.
my soul,
I called for you
day and night
but you never replied.
all time taken,
it was wasted.
so please,
erase his chapters
and rip out the
pages.

there is no love as the love from the sea.
one that the sea has for this shore.
one that this shore has for the sea.
the sea rushes in, running towards
the shore, hoping for open arms
as the shore stares back.
the sea meets the shore.
and just as, the sea settles.
because that is what the shore does to it.
calms the sea after all the water
built up and heavy shells in
its huge wave
that the sea has been carrying all day.
the shore takes all of that away
and makes new, but only for a moment
before deepening back out into. but instead,
instead of the sea with a heavy wave,
the shore has dimmed it out into
a calm smooth-over.
and then another comes, not a big
but the shore is still open
with a full heart and smile.
that is their love.
the sea loves the shore even after all the waves all day,
the calm sea still rushes in for the shore.
and the shore is hoping it never stops, because after even
a day of the sea's heavy waves coming barreling in.
the shore still looks toward for
the calm night. that's is the
shores love for that sea.
and that, is their love.

You can’t see my sadness,
Because it’s held behind my
Gladness.
A sheet of glass
That plays pretend.
This all was once
A toddlers game,
Now hung out
in shame.
My heart drug out
Across the concrete.
Leaving shattered pieces
Behind me.
What exactly is this?
This reckless
Child’s game.

So let’s play pretend once again.

What do I say?
Your stare,
And my voice a delay.
From eyes of the
To lips of those,
The shine in your eyes.
A doe,
Staring back at me.
Darts full of
No purity.
The soft innocence
Of this doe.
Is the devils glare,
Or evil.

She drowned
Into the person she thought he
Was