Look at me,
what do you see?

A mirror image cracked?

Hear me out,
even if you have a doubt.

Am I even wanted?

Give me some reason to believe,
that you actually love me.
I am your son,
but you seem so done...

with me.

You gave me reason to suspect that every thing was fine,
but you made me feel like I couldn't stop dying.
Your jealousy of me is so dumb,
Im not as strong as you, like a little crumb.
It wasn't until now that I had to take time to think,
and realize that everything was going down the sink.
You wanted me to be proud of you,
when it should've been the other way around.
I've done nothing that would make you think,
that all I want to do is smoke and drink.
I know I'm not perfect,
but I know you're not either.
I used to think you hated me,
mostly because I wasn't what you wanted me to be.
Then I realized after so long,
that I was horribly wrong.
It's your fault for feeling this way,
and the way that you've treated me to this day.
You make me wanna puke,
every time I hear your name.
You didn't have everything when you young,
and now your feelings are ever-so stung.
I started off with everything,
a family, fun, and freedom.

You, not so much.

I can understand that you didn't like it back then,
and I'd be here for you if you didn't push me away back then.
Your hatred of my life that's more fortunate than yours,
can only be measured by the amount yelling you've done in your mind's tours.
I can't believe I'm the only one,
to realize this huge lie.
You've given me every reason to want to cry.
I can't even be proud of a man,
who's still a child to his kin.
Even the child finally knows,
his reason of why hate flows.

You scare me in every way,
I wouldn't even be able to talk to you any day.
You're a bomb ready to blow,
and I'm a light with the right fire that glows.

Why can't you be proud of your kid,
whom works independently to get through life?
Who's never drank, smoked, or taken advantage of.
Why is it that every time I try to talk,
I'm the one who's accused of yelling or getting out of hand,
when you're the one who intimidates me to no freaking end.
I can't take this lie anymore,
my mind is too tired and sore.

My heart no longer longs for the stepdad you are,
you've changed and taken it way too far.
I know that I'm not perfect and I have mistakes,
but let me live a little and learn a little,
and try to be your friend and your son,
so that I can still be here for you,
and still love you as a father.

But now I can't stand it,
you've used your time up,
I've gone away now,
and want nothing to do with you.

She hides behind a cloak of whispers and lies,
so demanding of men in nice suits and ties.
Her face so relaxed but in disgust at all,
trust me when I say she won't care if you are short or tall.
Her words fly out of her mouth so consistently,
hypocrisy is a normal thing that happens so insistently.
She finds the bitter ones sweet and the sweet ones annoying,
but luck has it that their hearts is what she is toying.
She'll lay down her head and stare at the sky,
but why not read a book instead of crying over a guy?
You talk as if your words are so much better,
so I really hope you read this letter.
You lied to me and then said that lying was bad,
yet you repeat it over and over so now I am mad.
Wishing guarentees you nothing but silence and wasted time,
you won't learn this you drug-driven mime.
You will silently follow the crowd and do whatever it does,
but for God's sake, don't say I do so too, it insults and creates foes.
My main pleasure is to please the child in my heart,
you aim for the men to get into your legs that are apart.
You feast on attention and try to act all dignified,
I at least act like me, and what I am signified.
My only words are this, and it is quite simple to feel,
shut up. To you, I don't have to kneel.
Your words mean nothing and nothing at all,
so there is no point in trying to stall.
Seeing as your actions led you astray and fell of path,
I guess I will do much better Pre-K math.
...
*****.

I have a guilty pleasure, one most peculiar,
I've taken time to think about time and time again,
I still don't have answer for this problem however.
December cold, sleet hitting people on the streets,
I felt a chill down my spine while walking, one of a unconscious retreat,
I faded out, losing any feeling in myself,
and watched the movie from the front row seat of my mind.
There I was, looking around as if trying to hide,
When a man appeared, smile and gun in hand.
One, two, he tried to shoot,
Three, four, he lying on the floor,
Five, six, his arms broke like ****** sticks,
Seven, eight, another punch would decide his mangled state,
Nine, ten... I came back to, watching in horror what I did.
His body lay broken on the floor, his gun wrenched inside his mouth and forcefully shoved in,
His hands both squished with imprint of my shoe,
His neck was twisted, like a gnarled branch,
And his arms were ripped out of their sockets, blood dripping and pouring out on the floor from both limbs.
As I stood there, blood, shock, and terror covering my face,
I told myself that nothing would happen countless times,
And walked away, no traces except for images in my brain.
Yet tonight I stare up at that moon once more,
Ah, the movie's about to start again...

I try,
I really do.
but no matter how many times,
I'll still never be as good as new.

I wish I could show you the self that isn't scarred up,
that still has that happiness in it.
This body is just torn up and destroyed,
so please don't give me another hit.

I wanna feel special,
when I'm around you I DO.
You aren't as proud as I am though,
feelings that are dying to a few.

I'm starting to had doubts mixed with sadness,
concurring thoughts that contradict madness.
Stabilize my brain once more,
support thoughts that are fadless.

I suppose we'll see again,
my thoughts are about to die.
Can't we find a larger room,
so I can just have space to lie?

I don't need much to live,
but too much to die.
I have to stay up,
my brain is still alive.