Lately,
my words have hit the trash can
rather than decorating
the wall of fame.
My mind is on a constant frown,
deeply obsessed with you.
I wanted your life to be perfect,
not flawed with worries
about tomorrow.
I wanted you to reach the height
of unlimited potential.
But lately, I’ve been the one
delaying your deliverance,
creating treason and misery.
Making you less
than you were before.
Lately...
...my words tainted your soul
with disappointment.
Unmade your dreams
and disrupted the prosperity
of your wants.
Young titan - no longer mine,
Letting you go,
unchaining your heart
making you soar...

Equates...
unsurmountable  measures of pain...
...and alcohol.

Diary confessions

I never liked poetry
until I wrote it.

I couldn't understand
why stanza's split up
into three or four or 12
lines.

Why a poet
writes rhymes of sadness as if
it's a better way to show it

I hated that everyone
thought they had the answers
to leading a better life
because they were the ones
who took the road
not taken.

But then, one day
I pressed a
pen to paper

And the words that
were once kept inside
flowed out like those rivers
that the poets kept talking about.

And the stanzas
separated themselves
into groups at parties
that all mingled together

while also standing alone.

My words became physical,
The tears I couldn't press
out of my eyes
were pressed on paper.

And the poem became
a song
and the song became
a new life form

And everyday I look
at what I have created
and

Smile.