There were four bodies, walking in one line towards me.
It was a bridge, a dark bridge inviting fear to overtake me.
I was on my phone...What was I thinking being on the phone
whilst walking alone?

They first walked towards me with innocence and poverty written in their eyes,
there were lies waiting, perhaps hoping I could give them what they wanted.
Like the idiot I was I allowed them to corner me,
they cornered me like shadows leaving no space for light.

I held on tightly of the strength and bravery left in me,
my phone being ripped out of my hands,
my bag,
my neck being choked,
being held down by the weight of four men,
who simply wanted help yet turned their rejection to hate, hurt, inflictors of fear,
They gripped my hair,
There was no air left in me to breath,
My precious body ****** in shock,
I felt lost,
I felt blocked,
I lost my confidence,
then fought back with each and every vocal in me, I screamed and screamed and screamed even if it killed me, even if they killed me, at least I would have died with my bravery intact in me.

Be happy
For all things lovely
And what do you do to help others
Be kind
To unkind people
They need it
Most

Prepare yourself,
this gets interesting












Have you ever imagined how a hanging body sways.
Back and forth
A human pendulum
The physics between each swing.
The noose,
The body
potential to kinetic energy
Over
And over
And over.
welcome
To the dark side of my brain,
The dark side of my art we call poetry.
This is the side not many see.
Because this side of me craves a bullet between my eyes,
My delicate blood to be splattered as artwork.
This is the raw side of me.
That i dont show people
This is terrible you could be thinking
Or...
You could be thinking
ive heard worse
And maybe so
But nothing is worse to me than wishing for ******* death,
Rather than looking at a ******* abuser one last ****** time!
ive had enough
And
I know im crazy.
But every human snaps...
Kind of like the time he snapped my arm
a slight pop
And
Ouch
A world of pain.
But stop,
And you could be thinking...
now what the actual **** am i reading
Allow me.
You are reading a lonely 15 year old boy's crazy side.
A side he can easily hide,
But has decided not too.
This is the thought of letting my inner self free just once
Letting my suicide revolver speak only in poetry just once
No,
If you actually care
Dont worry about me.
Im fine.
Im not gonna guzzle bleach
Pop a bullet
Or go for a physics lesson.
Nope im gonna keep living
And writing crazy **** like this.
Let my imagination, though dark it may be, run for a bit.
Heres the truth.
We all have a bit of this side in us.
We all have those thoughts.
Those whispers.
And i resist them, yes.
Because truth is,
its my inner brilliance
The fact that i let myself ease in to the darkness,
But refuse to let it controll me...
Its a true gift.
And i hide it
Behind a thin veil of happieness.
Because in the end,
Only a true lover can make these thoughts mend.
(Wait what the ****!?! Is this a **** love poem)
Ha!
Nope.
Well maybe a bit
Its just me
An average guy
Telling you,
Im lonely
Depressed
Insecure.
And i hope there is someone
To come with me
To be with me
To love me
To hold me
To make me feel whole again.
*do you believe someone could love such a wreched person like me?

My dads room was often dusty.
He had...things in there.
Things that would strike a childs curiosity.
Exept
It wasnt my curiosity.
He got home from work
Us kids were home alone.
He saw little fingerprints on his dresser.
I was called up to his room
He snatched my hand
Pulled my thumb
And planted a print right next to the crime scene.
My thumb matched the other one.
I pleaded with him that it wasnt me.
And it wasnt.
But he hit me
And told me i was lying
He told me he wouldn't stop until i admitted it
So i lied.
I told him i did it
I didn't.
I was treated like a dog
Had nothing to do with the situation
Just his way of ******* my head.
He
Made me lie
About a truth
That was easy to tell.
I didnt go up there
Someone else did
But like always
I fell for the crime i didnt commit.
Who the **** lies and says he did something that he didn't.
It happened all the time.
I was
I am
A truthful person.
But he made me lie
About being a liar.
And thats how he kept it.
****.

Greet the girl in the street,
Give her a hug:
Please give her something to eat,
A tea in a mug;

She's got a lot of trouble,
That's why she's on drugs:
Probably been ***** in the struggle,
By some viscious thugs;

She looks into your eyes
To see what you've got:
She's heard too many lies,
Her dignity she has lost;

The society despises her,
But if only they knew
Her aches and fear,
They'd change their point of view;

She probably ran from her family
Or an abusive father:
Or couldn't stand a certain tragedy,
Therefore she runs far;

If her being out there
Is caused by her folly,
Life can be unfair,
And how many are holy?

Imagine what kind words would do,
When spoken from a compassionate heart:
It could bring nourishment to you,
And healing to a broken heart;

So do not judge the girl in the street,
Please do not hurt her:
Do not see her as prey or meat,
If you can't help,then stay afar.

I'll prepare a boat
to send my stupidity aboard
and provide it with a paddle
driven by the regretful memories that often made me shatter.