When I was a child,
I was taught poetry wasn't mild,
It was deep as the sea,
And it seemed truly unachievable for me.
I was taught poetry had to rhyme,
Every single line, every single time.
So poetry seemed out of my reach,
Like chasing a seagull down a beach,
Jumping ever so slightly away,
Or soaring into the sunny day.

So I never thrived for what I thought would,
No, Could
Never be.

I guess now I'm fixing the mistakes of past me.

He cowers from his sins
Disgusted by his skin
His flesh that crawls
From shriveled up bones
For his sins he cannot atone
He is alone

This weakness deep within
Another’s patience wears thin
His eyes that wander
He is lost on his own
For his sins he cannot atone
He is alone

I want to scream, at you,
I want to see you move,
Just a flinch.
Why won't you move?
Why won't you run?
Run, away from me.
Stop looking at me.
With that look in your eye,
My eye.
I.
I want to run away.
Run away, with me,
Stop holding me here.
I need to scream,
Scream.
I need to stop screaming at me.

If a man needs you to believe a lie,
He will often say, "trust me."

If a man needs you to believe the truth,
He will speak it.