My life
is made up of
interesting lives.
People that seem
to always be in
motion, doing
and experiencing life
and all that it offers.
I merely sit and observe
from behind the railings,
Yearning to join in,
But having not the courage
That would be needed to
Step away from my life
Into the one I wish I had.

Why can't I dream for one night
Without seeing someone's after life

Why can't I dream for one night
Without seeing someone's future in my mind

Why can't I dream for one night
Without knowing what I dream

Why can't I dream for one night
Where what I dream ~even the nightmares ~ is better than my reality

Why can't I dream for one night
*And and never wake from it again

Being alone and being lonely are two different things
Feeling alone or feeling lonely are two different things too
Alone, meaning no one is around
Feeling alone means there's people all around, but in you mind, heart, and soul you're all alone inside
Lonely, meaning you're single and searching
Feeling lonely means you're always alone, no matter the place or people

Alone
Or
Lonely?

I am both

I feel alone and I am alone
I feel lonely and I am lonely
My soul is cold and empty
But my body is warm and full
My body is heavy
And my spirit heavier
My mind the storm and my heart the war

Will it ever end?

The overcrowding loneliness and the loud silence that comes with it
Or the feeling that I'm alone

I cry
I mourn
But what am I crying for?
What am I mourning?
Am I crying for death to take me?
So that he can warm my soul and unburden my spirit?

Am I mourning the life I'm living?
Am I mourning the future I think I'll have?
Am I mourning that death doesn't want me, or that he doesn't love me the way I love him?
Am I crying and mourning the deep thirst I have for him?

I think I am
And I'm not sure if I'll ever get over him, or stop wanting him
He was my only solace except writing
He was the only thing I thought I could control
But I don't
He controls it
He decides whether to push me away or to bring me closer

This burden I carry
It breaks me a little each time I feel I should die
Why haven't I died? I think
I should be dead. Someone else who deserves to live should have the rest of my years.
I always think this
Then I think of others
The pain ebbs, but still flows much more greatly later, when I'm thinking too much, feeling too much
Am I alone or lonely?
I think I'm both
And as I said in one of my last poems: Am I trash or golden?
I'm not sure
Am I trash because I'm too broken, or am I golden because I'm broken in a beautiful way?

I realized the only place I was looking for beauty was in the mirror
I looked in my heart and saw I was ugly there too
I saw something just as bad in my heart
**A mirror...

Tounderstandawordonemustbethemselvesandletthestoryflowwithwhatisw­rittenasitcanbeconfusingifnotseperatedandmadetobealongsentence
that is hard to read.

Never look in
to the mirror
in the morning,
you,ll turn to stone,
its not a pretty
sight the face
that is yet to awaken,
with that face distorting YAWN.....

I am the embodiment of all
things good and trustworthy,
I have a devilishly seductive
smile.

Come on you know you can
trust me, look in to my eyes,
there hypnotizing wouldn't
you say.

''yes I understand''  

You know what to do, just sign
on the dotted line, repayment in
ten years then you owe what is mine.

'' I'll sign so it can be mine''

Sign in red on the dotted line,
as he smiles with a raised eyebrow
the deal nearly sealed, you can
trust me, as the black feather tip
scratches across the line.

I am the embodiment of all things
good and trustworthy, he says
and the deal is done, devilishly
he smiles, see you in ten years,
trust me ill back now the deal is done....

I find that everyday's dull and grey
And I'm left to rediscover it on my own
I wake up to see the same display that I can't get rid of
I've come to see that one day everything dies
I've come to see that everyone lies
i've come to see that people just survive, and try to love to stay alive
Some just try to stay together and not fall a part
Nothing matters
Everything matters
With so little time
With so little space
Everything matters
And yet
Nothing does
Nothing matters to me but writing
Being mortal, having achievements does matter
Cause after you're dead those are the things you're remembered for
Being immortal, you have all the time in the world
up until the world ends that is (which isn't that far away in my belief)

But I am mortal
I want to be a writer to show people my age and younger that language is beautiful and is still alive
And to keep it alive!!

I may find that one day people will be too far gone and I may be in heaven or hell
*I am forsaken

I guess you could call it poetic how by the age of 12 I had no recollection of what happiness tasted like on my tongue. Some would say it was tragically beautiful.
But it was not poetic, nor was it beautiful,  but it was tragic. It was so very, very sad, and that sadness is only doubled now that people see sorrow as glorious.  It is not glorious. It is not strength. It is a lump of iron in your chest and stomach and it eats you from the inside, out and you have no right to think that blood stained wrists are anything other than tragic. So very,  very tragic.

beware when you fall in love
with an artist
be it a painter, a singer, or poet

for the artist will
paint you
with strokes and hues
in shapes of every kind

sing about you
with heartbreak lyrics
and feelings which rhyme

write about you
with the simplest words
and a secret message she wants to say

beware of the artist,
and her love
one wrong move
and you're an artwork in her display

If you ever end up falling
you could never catch yourself
is this the reason why
you never say 'I love myself' ?

im screaming at the clock to please stop ticking seething at the moments that won't stop sprinting through oh why are you running away i am crying for the nights that i was not crying i am longing for the nights when you longed for me too i'm searching for the time i've lost because who gave it the right to just ******* run away
i'm sitting here in pieces shattered by a memory
who gave it the right
to just become a memory?