I told him I write poetry.
He asked me if I'll write poems about him.
And I said, yes every time you break my heart.
"Well then I'll never break your heart"
That was a promise he never kept.

I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)

your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about
you;

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you

I finally broke down every wall for You

And you picked up every single stone
Just to throw it back at me.........

You can always tell a self destructive writer
By their poetry

Because sometimes they are redundant
And other times they are expressing pain

But they always tell a story of being hurt
And locked into their own head

But this my dear, is why they write
Because the person in their head is trying to get out

Self destructive writers
Are usually dark

But when they are light
They tell you how perfect you are

So that you don't do the same thing
That they did to themselves

Self destructive writers
Don't want you to make their scars
On your arms

Being white...is now a sin to society.







I was nothing but a plain canvass. Hanging in the wall, the consummate design of purity. One day, I threw a dot in the middle of my frame to see how life is like. Then all of the sudden, I became the attention of most paintings. I was art. I was meaningful. The thought of my imperfection is art. But not all commits to that sense of style, and they judged me. They smudged me with colors I'm unfamiliar with. Their hands changed me in terms of tragedy, just like themselves. My innocence became abstract with different intentions. The white no longer defined me, but the sins they made me do provide.

Dance, my son
Dance in the grass
The pavement is constricting
It leaves you numb to true feeling
So dance in the grass
Dance in the grass
Be snazzy
Be jazzy
Create your own craze
The grass sings to your bare feet
True joy for days
The pavement is for those
Who follow the path
But those who invent their path
Dance in the grass
The pavement walkers will stare
But when you’re dancing you don’t care
A tango
A waltz
A rhythm your own
The grass understands
The pavement can’t atone
Barefoot and fancy free
Dancing in the grass
What a sight to see