The pen trembles, the paper perspires,the hand remains steady. Or is the mind weary and reality an illusion within a dream?
Infatuated with harmonising every line. Your mind is violent but your words are quiet. incessantly bleeding the pen with no anguish, just anarchic serenity as you conclude with tranquil tragedies.

I am a poet
and my words bleed my blood
they say what I feel
and breath through my lungs

I'm not a typical teenager
I don't facebook things
Or post my life to the world
I don't tweet
Or Twitter
Or all the other
Networks
I don't instagram
In fact
I don't like pictures
If me. I hide from the camera
Hoping no one will
Click the photo button
I don't party
Or stay out late
I sit at home
Watching TV
Or better yet
Cuddling up with a good book
I don't waltz around
In revealing clothes
Hoping for a boyfriend
I don't act all bubbly
I cry and worry
I don't worry about boys
And dates
I worry about depression
And cutting and if my
Friends are really fine

I don't doodle or draw names on a binder
I write poetry on a site called helo poetry
And the only thing that upsets me
About that, is that I didn't find it sooner

You are there for me
through thick or thin
We just don’t know
when this ride will end

Through happy cheers
and sorrowful woes
We always stick together
no matter how it goes

Until our days are done
or our Savior returns
We will go through life
with a love that burns

mkt

Why would I go for a guy
That makes me cry more than smile

Why would I put myself through all this
Just for one kiss

Why would I go head over heels for you
When you don't feel this way too

But why do I
Waste my time
Listening to lies
Just in the hope
That you might look at me once again
The same way you look at her