They say I should make new friends.
But it seems like everytime I do that
They get taken away from me.

I might never have happiness,
Will I?

i cried in therapy today
while telling her that i
hate that nothing bad has
happened to him yet--
He still has his phone and
his life while i'm caged up
Like some animal and
cant have anybody i love or
care about with me
anymore.

These lonely nights, just don’t feel right.
Times like this there is no sight of feeling like everything is warm and tight.
The way you felt when you where young and mom tucked you in bed at night.

Complete emptiness, a mad sensation of senselessness covers your eyes.
Consumed with lies, choked and tied, tears falling as you quietly cry.
No one will know, because no one will show compassion enough to ask why.

Why would anyone care about you, greed and selfishness is now the rule.
Broken hearts and paralyzed minds like great knights ready to duel.
No winner will be announced as they both lay dead in there own red pool

Screams pierce only the silence that the ears will no longer hear and simply disappears.
Cheers from self righteous reckoning steers all to near with no since of shame that came from the insane motives of fear, if only for a second to step back and look in the mirror.

Consuming every thought like a mop, which soaks up slop, leaves only solitude.
Controlling the mood and every move, hollow veins now run through each and every inch of you.

Unbreakable chains, binding there only game, yet eventually rust in the rain.
Freedom follows, then comes tomorrow, nevertheless the numbness maintains.
Despite all the pain that remains, somehow contained and remain, sane.

Breathing is no longer an option, death is humanities consumption.

1.
Because you are lonely too. And you know what it's like to spend hours waiting for a notification that someone values what you say. Verification that some of the people in your box of friends still walk through your forests waiting for trees to fall.

2.
Because you didn't understand the metaphor and so it must be deeper than your reach. Because people who appreciate poets are more approachable than poets themselves, and are far less likely to spend Saturday nights alone.

3.
Because the words look like family. Because when they pass your teeth it's as if your heart joins in chorus, and their syntax wraps cozy round your shivering bones. Because their eyes look like yours and because they know how to cut you, but don't.

4.
Because you are in love. And if a raccoon tore a hole in your garbage bag, ate last week's green chocolate cake, and returned it to your porch shortly after, you would see poetry in it. Because poems look like pies through rose colored glasses and it's really hard to find a bad pie.

5.
Because you hate this poem but won't tell me. Because our relationship hangs on your approval, and you know I'll expect you to make me feel ok about writing this. To tell me people don't appreciate real art anymore, and that's why no one else has responded.

6.
Because it doesn't rhyme, and there are numbers separating the stanzas that force you to read the last line slowly. Because it references Facebook and so it's something you can relate to. Because it's cliché enough to be memorable, and a little out of the box but still inside mine.

7.
Because you know why I wrote it. And you know that seeing your name beside it will be all the consolation I need. Because their is loyalty in a signature that even our forefathers acknowledged, and because it's the best way you know to take sides.

8.
Because the last thing you liked was McDonald's French Fries and you're looking to diversify your portfolio.

9.
Because you want me to remember you. Because we haven't spoken in years outside of birthday wishes and silence is a hard habit to break. Because neither of us is sure who the apology belongs to but because you're willing to take a step on faith.

10.
Because you know the impact an echo can have on its target. Because we all scream from stages built with fearful hands. We carry microphones in our pockets on nights too quiet to sleep and purge our lungs of their angst. Because this cave can not be empty. Because words are not like family unless they are spoken by someone we love. Because some nights all I need is a name to believe I still have my own.