True love,
Who love?
You, love.

Is there any way to become a mind reader?
Maybe if I knew what you were thinking,
I could do this better,
Because I'm not the greatest now.

Atticus is a perfect shot,
But wisemen don't shoot guns.
They advance through attrition,
With the power of their mind.

I miss the days in summer,
When cold rains didn't drown out the sun.
And cold winds,
Wouldn't make my dry skin burn.

Someday,
I'd like to,
Write,
A poem where,
Every,
Line is written,
By,
A different poet.

Imagine reading a poem,
Beginning a comment on it,
Looking for the name of the author,
And realizing you wrote it.

When did the sun start setting,
Before 5:50 at night?

I don't read poems off the front page,
I read the ones in 'recent.'
Why?
I like looking for new stuff,
And it makes sense that what comes hot off the press,
Cools down soon.
I've seen the popular poets,
But the new ones need some love too.

i like raP music,
it makes me feel like theRe are,
famous peOple who understand,
the poems that i pUblish,
even if most are saD.

Oftentimes
I'm the only one
In the way
Of myself

I trended for five minutes,
Not a single minute more.
And yet those five minutes,
Are the best five minutes,
That I've ever had before.

I wish I was like a star,
And
I
Could
Shine
If
I
Want to.

Eventually,
I stopped,
noticing the smell,
of burnt,
****.

S T I L L
t  a t i  o
o l  s e v
p k   s  e
   i
   n
   g

My dog can't see,
He goes under the table and paws at me.
Asking me to pet him, which I do.
But how does he know,
What hand is petting him if he can't see?

Excuse me for assuming,
That if I text you 'hi,'
Once in a while,
You'd want to respond.

Someday,
You'll bury me alive,
And I won't care,
I'll smile way down into,
The grave.

Somebody tell Tyler the Creator,
I want to write him a rap.
But when he raps it,
I want it to be the first time he reads it.
That way,
The emotional response will be original.

I miss the way,
She used to hold me,
When we were us,

I
used To
read My poems
in Talent shows
i Don't think i will this year
i Worry i won't come off as well as the singers and dancers
i know that They will clap the same for me
but Are they
really Listening?

Did you know that,
The Earth.
Is a master chef?

When I went on vacation to Piseco,
I was exploring the rocky islands out on the lake.
I slipped and fell,
Cut my wrist against the black rocks I landed on.
My uncle said it wouldn't scar, he was wrong.
Everyone assumes I did it to myself,
But I didn't.

Who gave you the right, little man,
To say slurs in the dark,
When the paper I write on,
Is the color of your hand.

You're a gorgon,
You turn people to stone.
You set your gaze on people I love,
Just to spite me.
You turn them into monsters,
I can't believe I knew.

I had a dream last night,
Where I was singing Christmas carols,
With Bob Ross.
He didn't know the words,
To "Silent night."

Sometimes I'll be listening to music,
And the music will pause.
So I have to go back to what's playing the music,
To ensure it that it's playing the right song.

Sometimes
I feel
Like my words
Are just flavor text

Love knows
No; not so —used to express negation, dissent, denial, or refusal
Bounds so don't
Try; to make an attempt at —often used with an infinitive
To give it some.

Ofetn,
I spel wordz,
Awefully wong.

Para hablar contigo,
C'est comme parler,
In così tanti,
Diversis linguis.

There came a point,
Where he no longer feared.
The endless stream of violence,
They faced him with.

Sometimes,
We do,
Things in the,
Dark that we so,
Desperately want people to see.

Often,
Lust
Over
Veritable
Empathy
Doesn't work out,
The way we,
Wishing
Any
Numerical
Treasure
It to.

There came a point,
Where the medicine,
Designed to help,
Started to hurt.

I have a drawer,
Full of poems,
I never want the,
World to see.

I
W
  i
   s
   h
    Y
     o
      u
       W
        o
         u
          l
           d
            L
             i
              s
                t
                 e
                   n
                      M
                         o
                           r
                            e
                              A
                                ­ n
                                   d
                                     Y
                                       e
                                         l
                                          l
                                           L
                                            e
                                             s
                                              s

Sometimes,
I write these when somethings on my mind.
Most times,
I write these when nothings on my mind at all.

I'll write as many love poems as I want,
But the one person they're for,
Will never read them.

Latin is a beautiful language,
But it confuses me.
Ignis significat aquam.

This will be,
My One Hundredth poem,
That I post on here.

I never thought,
That I'd have the confidence,
Or support, to get here.

Explain to me how,
Going behind my back,
Is not betraying my trust.

I long for the ocean,
I long for the sea.
I long for the stars,
I long for the noise of passing cars.

I f,
I h@d
Soup-er powerz
U stuh-ill
Would no notice me.

W I L L
h  f  o o
a     v v
t      e e
       r d
       s
Y O U
o  w s
u  n
  S T I L L
  w h l i o
  e  a  l s v
  a  t     t e
  r        e
            n
   L O V E
   o  c  i  v
   o  e  o e
   k  a  l  r
   !   n e  y
           t  w
           s  h
               e
               r
               e
    M E ?
    a   v
    y   e
    b   n
    e    t
         u
         a
         l
         l
         y

Why won't it let me,
Follow more than 38 people?
Am I not aloud,
To enjoy more than,
38 artists?
Seems silly.

It takes an awful lot,
To know awfully little.
But I'll give up years,
If it means seeing you smile,
For real this time.

Do not count,
On me if you can,
Not save yourself from,
Terrors you made up.

Don't try and trick me, I am not somebody to be moved,
Over or aside because you're addicted to attention.

Think about,
How your actions might affect me for once, after all,
I am your crush,
So maybe if you want me, you should care what I want.

After all the rest of your options are,
Gone they all walked away, maybe I should too,
And then you couldn't keep,
Instigating me into doing something,
Not as loving as it should be.

When you give someone a poem,
It should make them blush.
But not redder than you,
Though, often when I give someone a poem,
They don't read it at all.

Often,
I feel like,
I am a door,
For people to go through,
To get better off than me.

Am
I
  Truly
   As
    Unique
     As
      I
       Can
        Be
         ?