I don't think I know how.
How to write a happy poem.

Everything that I try to say,
Sounds so cliche and fake.

There's nothing I can write,
That's genuine along with happy.

The only thing I am fluent in
Is darkness and despair.

Death-
does it seperate us?

Does it leave us stranded-
like a missed bus?

Or does it connect us-
in a sense of final fate?

Knowing that one day-
we will all be worms bait?

I feel-
the answer is the latter.

But truly-
does it matter?

As surely as-
lightning before thunder.

We will all be-
six feet under.

Life is a series of "if's"
Some are more meaningful than others,
but all will impact your future.

Weather the "if" is sleeping an extra 5 minutes
or taking a job and moving halfway across the country,
you will have to deal with the consequences.

Perhaps the biggest "if" in life
is the one where you decide weather you're going to worry about the consequences
or just live life as it comes.

Do you even notice anymore?
Is the fact that I've completely isolated myself not enough for you to tell?
Or is it that I've become so good at hiding it,
that I show no signs of my mental Hell.

This torment that rages on inside of me
makes me contemplate the other option.
The one where I cease to be,
which is better?

How would I do it?
Would I put a bullet through my head?
Down a bottle of my brothers pills?
In which case would I be the most dead?

How could I get far away from this place?
what’s the quickest, most painless way to escape?
I've got to keep a steady pace,
Can’t let anyone discover my torment.

Would I write a letter?
Would I tell everyone what made me this way?
Or would it be best to just apologize?
I have to find the right words to say.

I've tried to show people without saying a word,
These thoughts running around in my head
But it doesn't matter now,
In due time I’ll be dead.

When the Eagle soars,
I look up in envy.

When the Jay sings,
I can only cry.

When the Hawk flies,
I break under shackles.

And when the Phoenix rises,
I begin to die.

I cant pretend to know what others go through,
I know others have it a lot worse than I do,
But I also know that others are better,
Full of emotion .

I've stopped being sad,
I don't remember the last time I actually felt something.
I'm only ever numb,
Like there's a void in my soul.

I see happy people,
Sad people,
Angry and confused,
And I just wish I could feel a tinge of any emotion.

Some people say that there's noting worse
than going to bed mad.
But little do they know,
Going to sleep numb is the worst.

When a person goes to bed mad,
They have the opportunity to wake up happy;
But if you go to bed numb,
You'll still be that way when you wake.

I'd rather feel something,
Than feel nothing at all.
At least when you're sad
You know you're not dead.