I wanted to write a poem
And name it
"Baby Carrots"

I was going to write about
how your favorite band
was Pink Floyd,
and how I see your face
in the surface of the swimming pool
behind your house.

I was going to write about
the bus seats
with burn marks
and scratches in the vinyl
that you left in the backs.

I was going to write about
your faded red hair and
how everyone laughed,
including you.

I was going to write about
your funeral.

I was going to write about
your bedroom door
and how when I look at it
I think,
that for maybe a second,
you're sitting in there,
fixing a computer.

I was going to write about
the empty space
in the room
when everyone's together
aside from you.

I decided to let you rest.
You need your sleep.
I hope some day,
if there is some world after all of this,
I see you again.

Just in case I don't,

I wanted to write a poem.

I can be,
Just by myself.


And yet;

If I could breathe a dream,
It would be the one on your passenger side window.
I traced the veins of my heart
And found you tangled.

I'm crying
because I understand now
I let you go
why
I was afraid together we would go places
I could never go alone
and that scared me

and now I feel horrible
I'm lonely
it's my fault
I had you
but now you have her
oh, what did I do?

Time and time again,
I forgave you,
Every time you hurt me.
I took you back,
And you won my heart all over again.

But this time it's different,
You've hurt me one too many times,
And I don't know how much longer,
I can hold on..

You know there's a saying,
"Let go of them, if you truly love them."
Whether I let you go or continue to hold on,
I will always ******* hurt.

My scars don't reflect,
How deep my cuts and wounds really are.
Nor do they show,
All the pain and suffering you have put me through.

The tears that stream down my face,
As I write this..
They're all for you..

Some may call me stupid and pathetic,
For loving someone like you..
But please, please understand..
I am so very afraid of losing you.

Because you could be the best and worse thing that's ever happened to me,
And I don't know what to do..
I don't know if I want to let go,
And lose you..

But I know if I continue to hold on,
I'll lose you anyway..
So either way,
My choice will hurt me..
It will ruin me..

But what's the difference anyway?
Because you've already torn me apart.
You've already ruined me,
But you're too blind to see that.

I'm wasting my money away,
Like its alive and running astray.
My first pay check disappeared,
Before they knew what they feared.
When I'm down and oppressed,
The one way I can still express,
That I'm myself, not any less,
Is to spoil myself with things in excess.
My mother clearly thinks I'm stupid,
That I'm only young and deluded.
And my father, with his selfish sneers,
Expects monetary repayment for a debt of 18 years.
So with their own uneducated impressions,
And their age-induced mindset regressions,
They give in to their control obsessions,
And provoke all my hidden depressions.
And when I can't make use of drugs,
Or feel the pleasure of lustful hugs,
The only thing I've left to do,
The only way to make it through,
Is spend and spend all that I can,
Use all what's left inside my hand,
Prove that all their reprimand,
Has no authority, gives no command.

Yet the only purpose for all this ridiculous strife,
Is to demonstrate that I'm the one who controls my life.

What is money,
when we die?

What was the point of money
when our soul moves on?

Why are items loved,
and people objectified?

In true thought
an object can be priced
but a life can not.

Why are we focused
on the materialism?
The brainwash of the man
in the suit is what has made us.

But a body is a body
and a soul...
is a soul.
What is a body without a soul?
When the beauty lies within?