There are a lot of poems about love
and even more often the lack thereof

Makes sense, love's a big deal
And you gotta write what you feel

She loved with her hands opened wide
I wanted to match, and I really tried
But my heart's not a thing easily unlocked
Even still, hand in hand we walked
But it could not last, and I knew as soon as the first time we kissed
She loved with her hands open, but I loved with a closed fist

I thought she was a model, the way she looked

I thought she was an artist, the way she ******

I thought she was a goddess, the way she cared

I thought she was an angel, the way she shared

She's gone now, but that's okay
I just can't get over the way

Ah, nevermind, point is lovin' me's a chore

And after all the world needs her more

A lotta time I think to myself about things that could be

A coping mechanism for all that happens to me

Daydreaming is easy and a whole lotta fun

But of course, nothing ever gets done


is that the point?

Short poems are easier to read

But is ease really what we need?

There are a lot of weak people, but I am not one
They all have qualities, of which I have none
I am better than them, in a technical sense
I am strong, and not nearly as dense
This may seem mean-spirited to those of a lesser mind
I never claimed to be good, never claimed to be kind
Is that my job, I don't so, why should I care
if your feelings are hurt, well nut up, life isn't fair

There is something inside me, something bad
a manifestation of all the flaws I have had
All the bad rolled into one angry pile
I had it under control at least for a while