Some parents I forget, and forgot.
Their purpose in life and my life too.
I wish I could tell you how brutal I feel.
My emotions threaten to spill out each time, I wish I told you.
Take a better glimpse of it and show you what you really mean to me.
Sometimes I take my own parents for granted because they didn’t accept my truth.
They didn’t know their child told them their feelings and stood there not listening.
I felt crazy and a half on days that brought me over fearing trauma at stakes.
For sake, don’t bruise me or let your own daughter down.

Don’t let your son down either and keep it pushing.
Running away from the everlasting truth.
It absorbs the night freights you were scared of taking the truth.
You made a whole bunch of lies trailing to your off-bed.
Told me I lied, but I knew you did.
I’m just that perceptive and self-aware as you think I’m not.
People simply think those things because I play video games all day.
That I don’t know right from wrongs or stops from going.
Ah..

You just don’t know me that well.
What gifts I have in store and how much of a thinker I am.
It’s tragic how you think you know me:
Just a lone perspective of what the tiger thought above.
I might not know you, as you think I don’t.
Convince yourself I don’t know anything, but I know many things.

You ain’t going to keep gripping my heart and holding me back from my potential.
You ain’t going to call me a “gangster” everytime I do something you don’t find fit.
Is that all you ever say to yourself?
Something you pull out of yourself thinking it’s a good look for you as a parent?
**** you are immature as hell.
Immature people who didn’t think maturity came at a young age sometimes.
I know what you fail to know.

I don’t know everything, I know.
I know what you fail to realize.
What your ego misses to get.
The big picture inside of the small picture.
All the time you twist my words because I don’t agree with you.
Listen up though, I ain’t going to be around forever.
Soon I’ll move on and I won’t tell you once this relationship is over.
I won’t tell you if you ruined it or not.
I won’t tell you anything but moving in pitch silence.

Sorry, but I don’t feel bad.
I feel dedicated to my craft and voice.
Getting it out there in the world.
You thought you silenced me.
Kept me in the freezer didn’t you?
You thought..
You just thought things..
:)

A simple cloth defined as a ghost.
I am heard from the occurrence in the waves.
The shadow that foreshadows my intuition.
What should I say?
I’m confused if I mean anything.
A human being or someone in the darkness.
I feel like I’m walking alone in the sand taking in the dust and the rain.
I almost doubt myself and my surroundings.

I wanted to go back home, but my soul stayed here.
I am used to it, but never as used to it as I know.
You thought you knew me and my life, but you only lived in it.
You lived in it and sunk once you uncovered me in deeper complexities.
I don’t think one realizes how safe I feel, but once I leave I feel no longer a human of myself.
Am I a human?
Once was a human, but turned into a void in the world.

A hole in my heartbreak handles the strokes painted on the wall and the paint I threw.
I didn’t throw it though I left it and someone framed me.
Became me and told me I wasn’t worth your time.
I didn’t know my thoughts mattered to you, I thought I didn’t matter anyways.
Not actively thinking like that with a timer in my head, but you reminded me to dig deeper.

Those words are the color to my black and white area of ****** hearts hit and flicked on the wall.
They told me I wasn’t worth your energy and time.
Told me I was different and sometimes you don’t know me.
Sometimes I barely know you, yet I attach to you.
How do I unattach myself and let go?
Is this normal?
Is it?

It doesn’t feel like that.
I was just stuck inside of my mind.
An all-black figure on the sidelines chasing you.
Now I’m looking at someone else, but I didn’t mean to be dramatic.
How to be what I was going to be when I did feel the emotions.
I felt positive energy.
I can’t easily put my feelings into words.

Yet I feel so held back on what I choose.
Do my choices matter to you?
My feelings matter to you?
My thoughts matter to you?
My heart matters to you?
Did it ever?
Did I ever feel something?
Was I ever okay?

I wish I was..
I wish I was.
If I meant anything to you..
I appreciate it..
The type of thing that is hard to bare my soul.
Bare that your kindness makes me question if I felt like this..
Your kindness makes me feel different..
what’s even different..

The times I wish I just gave up and stopped chasing you.
Endlessly bringing me to the void that I was once in.
The void to me is a space to express unexpressed feelings and thoughts that linger in the breeze of forever.
Sometimes I don’t understand how I feel like this or are filled to the brim of uncertainty.
How you mean so much to me and I only had a glimpse of you for a year.
I’m still trying to find my words, as they are lost in the depths of my heart.

I still find the running sink haunted in my own head, as the door twists open.
I didn’t feel so exposed within its draining darkness of walls.
This was a simple message or poem of moving on, not something more.
Although every time I write about you, I feel something else.
Different types of words to express the inclusion and background of the person I fall into.
The kind of seeking cannot express how clarity comes into the beings of consciousness.
The kind of thinking can’t conclude if self-expression and the self helps to know that you exist.

In this world, I feel like a forgotten entity.
I should let go, but I don’t know how.
The string should just cut itself, but I see it can’t.
Without the pair holding onto the scissors.
Yet I don’t know when I’ll reconnect with you in silence.
The space is within deafening ears and distance that holds to you.
My eyes when imagining you, I can see myself reaching out for you.
With what means a longing and unfiltered light of how I feel.

I don’t want to sound like I’m chasing a person who isn’t worth my time.
Who isn’t what you see, when you look at me.
For myself isn’t yours, or mine to see.
So the inside is condemned and dimmed with lanterns.
Laughs sprawl out and now I feel scared of this turning point.

Call me crazy or any negative word.
Call me whoever you like.
I don’t like how I see myself and I don’t know what I mean to you or what you mean to me.
I’ll keep going, maybe.

I wondered if you should bleed out your soul to me.
Clean it and leave it dry until I come back from work.
To me you are a beautiful woman that your creator has created.
Not just a beautiful woman, but the person on the inside is beautiful as flowers come up.
I was a name researcher and it almost felt like pure gold when your name always had flowers pop up.

Pour your heart out to me once in a while.
There’s a present laying at your door.
I wish it was me inside the gift able to wake up again in your arms.
As you follow God outside in heaven I feel magical on the inside that I have to say one word for you.
My heart is booming for you to speak to me.
To hear your voice next to my bed, as I cuddle you tightly.
Voice is entirely blooming of flowers as I imagine you and your child.

You were meant to be in my life.
I couldn’t tell sometimes if you were the right individual.
One individual knocks and another one knocks twice.
One leaves you and the other sleeps with you.
Poetry is the power of love and life.
To see your vision through my eyes leaves me devastated as visions are different.

I saw one glimpse of one archenemy.
I immediately passed out in the car.
You took the car leaving the trail of my blood on your windshield.
I felt bad that you stole my body’s soul and turned into an object.
People aren’t as good as they say they are.
You have to look inside to find the good or what you are looking for is real.
Lies contained credit cards stolen, picture frames removed and rice thrown to keep me distracted.

I missed how the black ink flowed on my paper with each written word.
Each emotion and grave danger popping out into the sound of reality.
The rain drops on the page represented by me feels tragic as the words erase.
I am no longer left with a piece of overshadowing pain and grace.
The glory that used to run in my blood till’ the end of yesterday.

No longer a kid who used to ride on a bike, missed a lot of my childhood.
The gateway was locked, like a level in the fog.
The long roads of my life, broken, disheveled and disheartened from the year I learned.
I grew, woke, and became a bit angry as parts of me separated across the river.
The heart I had inside of me lost it’s connection to my mind.
The traffic lights echo and the streets become unknown, but I’m living in the foul equation of math.

A writing lesson about history and how it becomes our one to be by each memory and influence of society.
I grew to love these folks down the middle halls and the risks taken were extraordinary.
Take a lesson from history, humans apply it in our own life. That stands for individuality and authenticity.

Living in the being as the ink from my pen walks away on the sidewalk.
The paper just flies away and I’m singularly left with a desk to look at it.
Look at it and be grateful it was created, but I’d rather sit on the cold floor in the dusty wind.
Bewilderment followed the streams of artists, whirling in the biome of breeze.
I go wherever they follow in visions far from my recognition.
Recognizable from a distance, but one can imagine leaving a note on your desk.

Wind my paper back up like a toy.
Judge it for its worth, not for it being brutally honest.
It was shaken and twisted in the first winter.
The American sea felt icey cold, but better yet buttery at the knife cut.
The diary of my book holds a new medicine for my eruption that happens each day.
Carelessly, and certainly I looked up to you, like someone else did.
I saw you for who you are and cherished you, like a carriage with a kind person.
Sorry for such a sorrowful comparison. I’ll recognize you from the ground next time.

A kind woman holds a new meaning.
Cherishable and ambitious endurance of beings.