You can tease me,
Beat me,
You know you wana be me,

You can hit me
Curse me
I'll pretend it never hurt me,

You can set me on fire,
And Call me a thief
You can call me a liar
And give me great grief

You could call me a gay
You can call me a dunce,
You could hit me all day,
But you only live once,

I'm not writing
Poetry
I'm having ***
Same thing
Actually

Listening to the rain**
Listening to the rain pitter patter on my door steps
I can feel each droplet disperse and become one with the earth.
each rain drop falling so gently and innocently as it rushes through the grass and into the innocent soil. I hear a car passing
as the tires brushes the rain against the cement that had been pattering from the rain.
Still silent, as I listen to the noise that may come in between this moment of beauty.
Another car passes with the same rusty red look that the other car had.
The rain brushed against the tires as if duck tape was being peeled off of the ground.
Sitting in silence listening to the lost droplets falling gently, and empty.
I can almost taste the sound of the rain.
as it pitter patters on the concrete,  as though if it were falling onto a tin can.
Empty,
pure,
at peace,
as I listen to the rain pitter patter.