Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
The wind cries Mona
And carries her to me.
Because -
Sometimes I think
This love
Is as pure as can be.
But it can be superficial
Or fake
Or for goodness sake
Please let me get my
Mind straight.
I love you like the
Moon loves the stars
Like the street loves
The cars.
But what can I say?
Before it's too late,
It might already might be-
Alex Smith Feb 6
A failed boy,
Like a broken toy.
You snap the limbs,
And neck -
Oh joy.
Wondrous pain
And glorious disdain
From all the things around him
And what he'll never feel again -
What is happiness?
Besides a word
An unrequited sentiment
And statement
Of what he might be led to.
A shame -
But notice,
Change,
And rearrange.
Seeing his life
And plans
Fleet from him,
Burning in a flame
Of anxiety,
Depression,
Borderline personality
Episodes
And impulsive
Compulsive
Behaviors like choke holds.
Let go.
And box up the thoughts,
Put them on a shelf
Next to the forget-me-nots.
Because maybe he can rebound,
And unbound
From the chains
Holding him down
Like being pinned to the ground
He broke through,
Blasted of - shoot.
Like a rocket.
He is growing now,
Or maybe not.
But he can,
Somehow.
I'm just not that good of a person.
Alex Smith Jan 17
A mind full of patterns
In every which way.
Crawling,
Scrawling,
And cycling
On my walls.
Waves of colors burst
And I forget myself.
Fly into my spiritual dimension
And ascend.
Then it ends.
And I feel some clarity
And comfort
Wash over me.
  Jan 14 Alex Smith
I'm brOKen
You ever had a feeling
That you wanted to die?
And acted on this feeling
And you survived
And questioned why
You're still alive?

You ever had a, ever had a,
Ever had a feeling?
That made you wanna, made you wanna,
And acted on this feeling.
You ever had a feeling
That rids you of all reason?
And makes you hate your very being?
You are blind
And I'm searching for a feeling

Can't find a feel,
Because none of it is real
I'm traumatized
You say that it's not real

You are blind
And searching for a feeling,
I'm.
Nothing like waking up after another failed suicide. Again.
Alex Smith Jan 14
Emotional droughts
And bouts
Of tear-storms
Wash the sand
Like waves at high-tide.
But this time,
I have a boat
To traverse a
Moat
That I cry.

And in the winter
Of my life,
The dove called
"Hope"
Flashes its radiant ravishing, refined wings
Reluctantly.
And I know that
My spring is near
Because Hope is here.
Next page