i rarely use the word happy anymore
because i’ve realized what a temporary
thing it is
it’s funny i think i’ve use it in the past
to make others happy
i’m sorry that i can’t be happy
for you
because i can’t be happy
for myself
so used to this low dark feeling
that feeling good is unsettling
if a tree falls in the woods alone
with no one to hear it
does it still make a sound?

i envy those who do not feel so hard
or think too deeply
because **** this **** is exhausting
trying to find the perfect words
or trying to find the reason for everything

it can be so incredibly amazing
yet so incredibly isolating
to realize you’re one of a kind
and no one will understand your mind

thank god i can’t write good poetry
the best poetry comes from pain and hurt if you ask me
so although i can’t write like i used to
at least it means i’m doing alright

Midnight worlds swirled with moolight beams.

Delicate dainty love inscriptions would tumble to the page, aligned in perfection at whim.

But the darkness rising has hooked my soul.

Lillies, butterflies and daffodils died, still hanging off a demonic cloud.

Such was the darkness, I knew i had no other thing to do, but to espouse it all up like spew. A sickly offering of vileness and envy

I struck the worlds of beauty from my head and pulled out the ones nailed to my heart

I still bleed love darker than the darkest dark, I ****** with your mind and tore out your heart

I put it on display for all,  the winning-est ****!

Never thinking at all that my pen was sharper than your knife
And that ******* with pens trump *****.

I wish I was sorry.

Maybe i could forgive or forget and move on

Maybe then the words would come

You stole my pretty words along with the beautiful ones
The stories of my heart all gone,
stuck on a barren rock alone in space and time.

The rest i killed  each with an end stroke - coup de gras.

Now I don't care if it ever revives, because I'm fine just being some ******* with a pen

And I never wrote it for you anyway, not now, not then.

I only ever wrote for myself.

as the light keys
of the piano
drift smoothly
and swiftly
across my fingers
i played
as the melody sings
the piano keys
seemed heavier by the second
as i played softer and softer
the voice became louder and louder
the melody disrupted

I’m a little person
Not even five
What is going on?
Where’s my Mom?
Why am I in this cage
Like some dog?
Everyone is crying
This is a mistake
I’m being punished
What is my wrong?
Who will help me?
How long must I lie here
With nothing to do?
Who will help me tie my shoes?
And where is my sister?
She’s only three
I’m scared and I’m lonely
Mister, help me
You’re not allowed to pick me up
What’s that about?
Don’t you see
We’re all in this together
In the land of the free
And the home of the brave
Brave, I try to be
After the criminals in Guatemala murdered my father
That’s my family
Somebody help my sister and me
I need my mother
My mother needs me