You were the smile I wore to school.
And the grin I wear to sleep.
Now you're the tears that clot my eyes.

So I sat there crying crippled defeated.
And remembered your smile.
Confident childish and undefeated.
I love you.

Sometimes I get into this lyfe style. A lyfe style of remorse for feeling bad for myself. A lyfe style of projecting my loneliness on others and trying to title a book titled "The times I've broken my heart". And that's just the start of the story.

 It seems I was walking home one day and the oncoming traffic of the overhead displayed a sign that read "You've caught feelings today" my love was expressed through the form of tears. Or "white lies" I guess you could say because my tears are invisible to others and they're lies disguised till this day like the dust bunnies you sweep under a rug. And I know I messed up by talking to you so much. Because that was my first mistake. Getting attached is the quickest way to getting heartbreak. But to me its something more.

 You see I'm a mold of clay passed around for the whole elementary class to see. Some people jam their fingers in me and others mold me completely differently until no one can even realize I'm playdough so instead I'm just tossed away.

Or an even better one. We'll start with the cliche "I'm a towel put out to dry" but my owner never returned so instead my skin just bleached in the winter and I withered away into a line cloth that eventually floated a stray... Or maybe I was swallowed up by the lies of others who told me I was something more than an eroded piece of ripped line cloth clay.

Whatever the matter I'm an endangered endangerment to myself. I'm not suicidal but my thoughts tell me otherwise. Have you ever looked in a mirror and seen you're two bad sides holding each others hands? Singing lullaby's about how you're lyfes demands are mediocre and no were near ideal. You're a joke to the joker and even worse you're a joke to the ones around you who only see your smile.

 Because they don't even know who you truly are. Maybe if you put away the childish dreams of falling in love and picked up an adult magazine to hide forever any sort of horseplay that comes along with being alone, and being so weak to love.

And maybe that's just it. I'm to weak for love but, I'm to weak to be loved. So maybe my fake strength can offer me an attribute to this loneliness. Or maybe I'll just make a new title and call it "Moving on and moving away"

Its just I easily succumb to the idea of love. And it seems everyone around me doesn't feel the same. So I guess I'll just remain here as dried up shriveled line cloth clay.

You wanted a poem. Well fine I've beaten one with my ****** hands to help you pass the time.
You're so interested in me and its filled with naïvity a young blossom such as yourself should realize love comes with bad health.
I'm more mature and it conflicts with your ambiguous nature.
You disgust me by being so childishly selfishly manalady. You're a degenerate calamity unraveling my sanity and joyful lust to be adventurous at meeting new people, your evil two headed twin hides inside your skin and she's calling out to me!
"She's a lier" one says "she's your future" says the other are there no more clear signs to discover, my unrequited mysterious ambiguous naïve lover.
I'm giving up on you so here's that poem.                                              
You've been dying to have more than you'll ever want me.

SO WHAT WAS THE POINT OF LOVING ME? Can someone that beautiful be that blind? What fluent frequency of antiquities ties both hands behind your back as you yell overboard and collide with the concrete at full impact? Does demoralizing yourself help cope with the rope tied around your hope as you stick one leg out and wish a knight in shimmering black armor strings you along. Like you're his new play thing and nothing is wrong. How does my well being take sides with yours? You and your infinitely closed tiny doors that lead to a huge ocean that's filled with blood as your heart is beating. And I've begun to leave your lyfe I salute you good bye. And maybe you'll see me when you actually want to try for something we can hold high and brag to everyone else about being happy. Its sappy I know and this po- em is me connecting your dots or at Least the bread comes I thought you left behind. Because even jack and Jill shared a crime. After all killing a witch is no innocent gesture to pressure and jester about so lightly so why do we re-read a child's book to our young ones about how any form of dying is a fun one.

You're my bedtime story I keep by the stand. You're my bedtime story that built the confidence of the man I am. You're my bedtime story! So why won't you sing me to sleep? Because you're devils have crawled in to deep.

For my words would plunder with joyance if you're gloom wasn't the cloud that fed my imagination of what a good person should be. Your oppressive pessimistic contouring lies feed my brain until the water in my eyes drips onto the floor reminding  me that I am no more. No more than that of a snow sprinkle that tickled your nose. But at least that snow sprinkled made you laugh even For a fraction of a second because I know although we had our fights. I could never tear a whole in your heart. When all I did was fool around from the start.

You're so ******* beautiful. I just wish I could tell you when your talking. But I wouldn't wanna let you know I'm missing a couple of words you're saying in between cause I'm to busy staring at you.

I've got to start using my heart.
I've got to stop seeing with my mind,
And believing my wild accusations.
I'm pointing fingers with 4 fingers pointed back at me.
I'm blamimg people who only have love for me.
Who only see the good in me just to prove them wrong the next day.
Before I thought it was the winter that was making me cold but I didn't realize my heart was only freezing because I stopped using it.
And because of that I've frozen the only rose that bloomed even through the harsh weather.
All I do is blame others for the frost bite growing in my soul.
I never let them in to at least start the furnace etched into the hotel rooms they've etched into my heart.
And for that I'm sorry my beautiful rose.
I wish I could be the one to watch you bloom again.

Here's a cute poem for a cute girl.
Her names Demi and she's my god.
She's beautiful and funny but cold to the touch.
She's an icicle melting and I'm a friend who comes in clutch.
She's beautiful and I'd wish she'd see it sooner.
Cause there's to many loseres begging for her attention.
And it ****** me off how some of them are so possessive.
Reminds me of my bad luck striking black coal.
The only gold,
I've come across comes in the form of my beautiful friends.
And the only diamonds I've struck comes in the form of our trust.
I love you demi you're a great person.
Just do us both a favor and make amends with,
The demons you see every now and then.
Cause your my god and I know you're stronger then them.