Wanted to communicate
But was so Empty Inside
So  I kept Quite .....

Wanted to excel in Academics
But took my teachers word
that I was average.


Wanted to take part in Sports
But was sick ,weak and lethargic.

Wanted to make new Friends
But could not talk to them
Out of fear and Rejection.

I was a loner till the end ...
Just wished I could amend.

My silence does not mean I cannot argue
Its only that this  Relationship I value.

It’s not you.....its me.....
It’s just me.....
I don’t blame you for what you said....
I only blame me for how it felt.....
I don’t blame you for the way you’ve been....
It’s only just me for I let it touch me...
I know you were just you.....
I know I failed my own self in doing the same....
In being me.....
I allowed your essence to mingle my soul....
Careless I was I didn’t see the inevitable ....
The hazard....the danger....the evil....the darkness...
I allowed your venom to work it’s way....
Within me....inside me.....
A venom so lethal....so vile....so vicious...
A venom you named previously as “love”

it’s been over a year
a year of being apart from each other
ever since we called it quits

the past year without you
was a year of growth—
learned things about myself
and improved on me

I learned to move on from what we had
Since you moved onto another
At first, I questioned why you didn’t wait for me
but I figured that if that’s God’s plan for us
then so be it

Here we are a year later,
back in each other’s lives
but this time as friends
I knew I didn’t want you out of my life for good
So I hoped for this time to come

I thought I would be contented with that
but why do I suddenly get this feeling
that maybe I want you back?

I keep trying to hold myself back
from smiling whenever you talk to me
I just want to know what’s going on inside your head

Do you still think of me?
Do you miss me?
Such thoughts run through my mind

Maybe it’s just me
but one thing’s for sure:
after all this time,
you still mean something to me

Poems don’t always rhyme,
This ones a fine example,
For some are more a story then poetry
And that’s what this has become
A story
Or more
An observation
From me
See
I know this great guy
I have these great friends
I think I’ve found my identity
The world is starting to make a little bit of sense
My life was at a low point
The lowest of lows
And depression became my friend
More of an ally then actual allies
But now
My life is getting better
My family is still broken
But I’m learning to accept that
And move past it
I’m learning how to get through life
And I’m happy
I’m happy
Most of the time
I’m happy
Some of the time
No
I’m not happy
I could be
I should be
Once in a while
I am
When I’m with him
I smile
For the most part
I feel whole
And yet
As we stood up on top of that
Tall, steep, rocky hill
As I held his hand
As he looked at me
As he told me he kept thinking about me
All I could think about
Was how badly I wanted to jump
It’s not over yet
It’s never

the fight to want to be alive

Will never end
Some poems rhyme
But some are just stories
When will mine end?

You’re not a poet because you know those ‘fancy’ words
You’re a poet because every word you write comes straight from your heart

You’re not a poet because people admire your work
You’re a poet because you write for your own contentment and not for people's consent

You’re not a poet because you feel alone
You’re a poet because pen and paper are your biggest companions

You’re not a poet because you understand emotions better
You’re a poet because you let them flow freely

You are not a poet because you’ve failed in love
You’re a poet because you’ve been in love deeper than anyone else

You’re not a poet because you are strong
You’re a poet because you don’t hide your weaknesses

You’re not a poet because you can heal hearts
You’re a poet because you know what it means to be broken

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.