I see the changes
            At times they are clear

Other times, they seem to pass right by me...

I am growing...
               Maturing...
                     Changing...

I am becoming a stereotype
                          Just not the one  I thought I'd be...

Breaking rules,
               Sneaking out,
                          Telling lies,
                                   Cheating...

The list seems to continuously grow longer

            Is that bad?
                                    Or good?

                   I don't even know anymore

"Why do you write such sad things?" You ask

Oh dear, don't you realize ink spills like blood?

Poetry is no place for happiness...

Most people spill emotion from there eyes in the form of tears.

But writers spill their emotions with ink

Should my happiness be the cause of a friends misery?

Am I selfish to want this?
  
          Am I crazy for thinking this could happen?






                                        Who knows?

Turmoil boils blood
      
                      But despair drowns you in it

This empty page frustrates me,
Why will the words not flow for me?

I am locked out of my own mind.
I've wished for this,

So why does it sadden me?

Two hearts will never become one

                                   The world tells so many lies

But some,

     Are so beautiful