She walked her plank.
She was still afraid to drown as her great withered ship sank.
The sea whispered softly as salt water mixed with tears,
Darling, don’t be nervous,
We’re the perfect pair,
You’re welcome here.

She looked up from the water that licked at her feet,
And saw the boy that she loved as their tortured eyes did meet.

His hair ran rampant and blood pooled from his wrists,
And yet he still smiled and blew her a kiss.
“Come on, love,
Don’t look so blue.
I may be dying,
But I’m dying with you.”

She couldn’t help but giggle,
As music screamed in her ears.
She never liked heavy metal,
But it seemed like what a person committing suicide would hear.

She sunk further into the bathtub that was a vast sea,
As more of his blood stained the tile once pristine.
They shared silent nostalgia of a love so traumatic.
Who knew a ****** bathroom floor could be so romantic?

As water enveloped the tip of her nose,
Over her face floated the petal of a rose.
And that was the death bed in which she would lay,
Until someone stumbled upon her shipwreck someday.

Her ship ****** her down into a dark aether,
And the plank that held her last step sank down with her.
As her last breath bubbled up from below,
The love of her life whispered death a “Hello.”

The most beautiful love is created through the most horrendous pain,
Now only the story of two will remain.

I am in such a **** mood,
the mountains have no meaning.
Big ******* rocks.

*******, dad.
*******, Fox News.
*******, Indiana.

None of you *******
know what irony is.
Google that ****.
Jesus Christ.

There are yellow streams--
that's poetic ****.
There are ruby stained sheets--
that's blood, obviously,
and, I dunno,
maybe somebody died on a bed?

Everyone can **** my ****.

To be or not to be,
that is the
shut the **** up.

Rapists are disgusting people.
They aren't people.

******* idiots.
Romanticizing everything
you wish you had
because
suicide, mental illness,
and eating disorders
make you cool,
riiiigghhhttt?
*******.
If you do this,
you aren't interesting.
You're just you.
Get used to it.
There are people
that go through
these issues
and they don't think
it's ******* rad,
*******.

I hate 75% of the south.
The south will rise again?
Get the **** out of here.

Stalin was a ****.

Most writers are *****.
Most of them ****.
I don't care.

For the love of "God",
if I read one more poem
about what poetry is
or how to define a poet,
I'll slam my head against
a ******* knife.

Some people are so dumb.
Most ******* people.
******* pseudo-knowledge.
Armchair philosophers.
If you guys wanted
to **** yourself,
you could jump
from your ego
to your IQ.

Something, something, imagery.
Metaphor.

In preschool I met a boy who ate dirt to impress me.
In kindergarten I met a boy who challenged me to a pizza eating contest.
In first grade I met a boy who shared his crayons with me.
In second grade I met a boy who would always pass me the ball in P.E.
In third grade I met a boy who pushed me on the swings.
In fourth grade I met a boy who would race me to the soccer field at recess.
In fifth grade I met a boy who walked behind me in line to class.
In sixth grade I met a boy who knew my name but only to say it behind my back.
In seventh grade I met a boy who played me to win his own games.
In eight grade I met a boy who befriended me to share my secrets.
In ninth grade I met a boy who had to take his anger out somehow.
In tenth grade I met a man who wanted to make me forget all of the other boys.

I’m no longer even me,
I’m what you wanted me to be.
A robot to your command,
A pawn in your hand.
With no thoughts of my own,
Your words spoken on loan.
To him, saying only, “Yes, sir”,
Otherwise change “is” to “were”.
The pain, I cannot bear,
My soul, more than a tear.
My eyes have seen more pain than most,
Maybe even more than the famous Ghost.
In the end, I stand alone,
Ending where the fire is known.

I want to take away your pain,
Let it go like the falling rain.
Let it wash away,
For tomorrow shall be a sunny day.
You’re my frozen lake,
You’re in my head every second I’m awake.
When I find myself standing alone,
Will you be on the other end of the phone?
No matter if I just want to talk,
Or hold a hand and walk?