It's crazy
how such a simple thing like a pencil,
just simple wood and lead, can make all of our dreams,thoughts,and ideas in our heads actual words.
It's crazy how words,
just simple marks on a page,can make poems, novels or just simple thoughts available to anyone who is allowed, or willing to read them.
It's crazy that a few simple words,a combination of consonants and vowels,
can keep someone alive.
it's crazy how life works.

our ribs are cages,
that guard our hearts from
physical pain
the protect us from getting
our hearts hurt
they also restrict us,
they prevent us from
loving
they prevent us from
letting love in.
maybe that's why daddy
doesn't love,
maybe his ribs are squeezing
his heart to tight,
maybe daddy doesn't have
a heart.
and maybe that's why daddy
broke my ribs
maybe he wanted me
to feel,
maybe he wanted me
to love him,
even though daddy doesn't
love me.
but daddy
don't you know?
I can't love someone
who has no soul.

Like a drug, you were absolutely addicting.
You're love was a shot of ****** in my veins,
You made me happy,but then you took it all away.
And suddenly my supplier of happiness was gone.
No more temporary high, just me and my sad sad thoughts.