I put up walls to hide myself
My family won't understand
I have to hide who I am
Why can't I decide
I fall on the rainbow
I am purple, white, gray, and black
My family stays on the ground
They avoid the rainbow
I feel alone in my head
I can't tell them the truth
I have to hide myself
I wish I could fly away
I wish my colors could show
These walls keep me safe
Secluded
Afraid
My family won't understand
I am Ace

Im the type of boy
who can be do **** down.
You all see this smile,
But I just see a frown.
If you look right at me,
Look into my eyes.
Do you see depression
and all my sacrifice?

Cuz I am broken and I'm dead inside.
Can you make me happy?
Can you make me feel alive?
Cuz I am broken and I'm dead inside.
I always try to hide it.
Tell me can you find it?

I wanna go.
I want to just break down.
Turn off the lights
and watch me cry.
All you see is me
fighting to believe.
I try to make it look like
I'm as happy as can be.

Tears run down my face
and you come to me.
Try to stop the tears.
All you want is to make me feel happy.
And the feeling of you here with me
makes me happy for a moment,
but I'm back once you leave.

Cuz I am broken and I'm dead inside.
Can you make me happy?
Can you make me feel alive?
Cuz I am broken and I'm dead inside.
I always try to hide it.
Tell me can you find it?

I feel like it's ending.
I'm in so much pain.
Every night I lie awake
screaming out your name.
Will you come and find Me?
Make me feel alright.
Come to me and hold me.
Hold me oh so tight.

Cuz I am broken and I'm dead inside.
Can you make me happy?
Can you make me feel alive?
Cuz I am broken and I'm dead inside.
I always try to hide it.
Tell me can you find it?

This is not a poem
And I am not a poet
It doesn't have a good rhythm
And I don't know what to do about it

It tries to be wholesome
But feels hollow and empty
Like I'm trying to emote
When there's nothing inside

This couldn't be a poem
It doesn't have a perceived meaning
Or does it?

This couldn't be a poem
It doesn't evoke emotions
It doesn't make you think

I'm a lot of things
Empty and jaded; vacant and listless
Depressed, anxious, and rife with sickness
Unsure of what's to come

But the one certainty
That even I can understand
Is that I am not a poet
And this is not a poem

the ****** heart
(if ownership of a poem makes you proud, considered it to be...trending)

~~~

~for PoetryJournal~

~~~

the afterglow of the aftermath,
the chest pounding demanding,
tolerating-no-delay apprehension
of the transcription
of what is

the ****** heart soaring,
the lean-back exhalation,
wet eyes that only you
have secret knowledge thereof

this is why we write,
why we beings believe,
because we ask,
why

by the asking,
we grade ourselves,
both by
our words and deeds

step back and
accept the notion
that feels not wholly right,
for inherently tinged,
streaked with human pride,
that all possess,
and possessive of
our all

you are value,
by the words you have chosen,
by the only human
that can give truth to its essential
value

you poet,
are trending