I need to be locked up,
The noises cost too much.
I get angry,
I wanna punch.
I feel bad.
I need to be locked up.

I'm like mold,
Growing and infecting
Everything in my path.
Feed on the dying,
**** off the living.
I'm not a good person,
It's not that hard to see.

I'm like mold,
Growing and infecting
Everything in my path,
And when they find me out,
Like an apple picked too late,
I'm afraid they'll look down,
And throw me in the trash.

My Grandma told me,
About a poem she wrote
About a sunset on the
Key West shore
Painting poems to be
Ethereal and bright,
Full of beauty and
Delight.
Which they are,
But

Here I sit,
Writing poems
About how much I'd love
To die.
Or writing poems
About what's inside my mind
Which seems to be
Terrible,
Dark and
Telling me to be
At the end of bights.
Lonely nights I've spent
Spend days travelling down
My brain to my pencil,
Tracing backwards
Symbols to conform to.
Writing these words
Like child's play to
Nightmares.

So tell me,
What's the real meaning of poet?
Sunsets or an experience
Making poetry
Or poesy your only catharsis?
I think or hope it's both
But either way
Like most folks,
I still don't know what the hell
I'm talking about.

Like a moth
I'm drawn to the flame
Where I keep getting burned
I'm hurting in my soul.

My fingers are cut
My voice is weak
If there's anything left,
It was gone last week

"Grew up in that war zone
Wonder where my friends go..."

I feel like running,
Running from what I did to you.
Though you come in drunk
It upsets me,
I still feel like I need to do what makes you happy,
Cause when you're upset,
You get real low.

I want to run,
But got nowhere to go.

I still want to
**** myself,
This Christmas Eve.

Sorry.

The real reason I don't want to grow up?
Yes, the bills, the responsibility.
But the fear, the fear of turning out just like
Everyone else did.

They tell me
"Don't grow old."
They say
"I'd rather **** myself than live this way, I did everything wrong."
Well I hear that.
I don't want to grow old because
I don't want to live like that anymore.

I've grown this obsession with doing
Everything the exact opposite than
What they did
So I don't go down their way.

It hurts,
When family holds you,
Looks you in your eyes,
And tells you they want to die.
And nothing I could do
Could suffice that pain
Or price