I'm not exactly broken, just a little torn..
See i'm just as perfect as a rose thorn
I'm not exactly in love but I love you
And I know a fraction of you,
Loves too

It's just this Life thing, gets in the way
Of everything I want to, convey
So if you'll listen,
Here's a list of, reasons why
I'm willing to give my book,
A rewrite..

Some days, i'll get it wrong
And i'll come on way too strong..
Everyone's a fool, with words
Though my actions may be weak
I'll now listen when you speak
Everyone's a child, until 18..

And when your 18th birthday comes
You'll spend it with that someone..
In my eyes, everyone resembles an Ed Sheeran song..
So you'll always be my favourite 'Photograph',
Whenever I look back..
Everybody feels your warmth..

...Someday we'll meet again
With new loves and new best friends
Life can't help it, if our souls were meant to part..
But i'll hold on 'til the end
And learn to make amends..
Every now and then,
We'll have to break a heart.

This is my family
splayed out like a fox
caught in the headlights of a
passing car, all brown fur
& wandering teeth,
dried up & tossed on a lonely street.
Left behind unaware of
the wreckage caused,
the family bereft of a sister
 & daughter so loved.
That's what I see from the clouds,
from my imagined suicide.
I see a lost family
trying not to stare at a
huge empty chair.
A Christmas table now a shadow,
not a celebration but a day to fear
& that stops any thoughts I
might have about trying to
disappear.

Memory is a punctual ghost-. A silo of bitter and sweet harvest-threshing row upon row , separating chaff from kernel , **** from grain , a long days toil in seclusion , followed by persistent spirit , insomnia , and return to labor at dawn* ...

Sometime I can't breathe
Sometimes they all turn against me,
Well most times that is.
They fight me, insult me putting me to shame.
Just because I don't have cuts on myself they put me to corners, Using every form of abuse they can.
But the problem is they don't see me pop on these pills every night.
But forget about that I'll be alright.

I've got zolpidem and eszopiclone to take me to an unstable utopia.
Some prozac to help keep this smile.
I've got my best friends by my side.
So you can keep on ******* with me because I ain't got no cuts on my skin.

Guess into the tunnel
I shalt dissapear
Tis much better
Then being here....



©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Dissapearing

I asked this child what life is like
Spending the day on their trike
As they peddled hard they peddled fast
Life is like a trike I guess

I asked a boy in his teens
What is life like and what does it mean
He hopped onto his motorbike
And then flew off into the night

I asked someone of middle age
What is it about life that's all the rage
They rolled up the window and drove away
With nothing much about it to say

I asked an old man if he cared to share
What life was like in his wheelchair
He sat for a time with a vacant stare
Then wheeled himself out, going nowhere