I don't want to be a trend
I just want to be a part of history

I'm so deep inside my mind that my life is no longer being lived.
The mind and body are detached.
It's as if I'm watching a play; I've not seen it before but I know the outcome of every scene.
There are no surprises anymore, nothing new, nothing to spark an idea. Everything has happened before, every word said before me.
What difference am I making by repeating words and actions of others?
I'm not.
The meaning of my life is to make others happy, to ensure those I meet never know how it feels to be lonely, hurt or unloved.
This is not a difference you can make when you are trapped in despair.
If the meaning of life is compromised, then life itself is, too.
Why live a life with no meaning?
There is no reason at all.

I’m no author, novelist or poet.
I’m just Me,
And don’t I know it.
I don’t need to be classified,
As long as I’m writing, I’m satisfied.

Typing out words, line by line,
I don’t care if they don’t rhyme.
I don’t care if my verses don’t scan:
I’m not always an Iambic Man.

I just say what I gotta say,
I’m not worried about any pay.
Words come to me without much bidding,
The world of its evils I hope to be ridding.

I love to spread lots and lots of Love,
Bringing peace to all like a messenger dove.
Things of beauty bring joy, John Keats rightly said,
To make us sleep easy when we go to bed.

So I’ll paint what I paint,
And sing what I sing,
Just letting those words
Do their magical thing.

Paul Butters

My finger is dancing
Behind the trigger
While the barrel
Is pressed to my temple

The hate is killing me.

These cigarettes hate you.
This beer hates you.
These shots of brandy hate you.
The blunt hates you.

But I swear I still love you.

Curtains,
an invention made to hide,
to protect.
Curtains
are made
to give a sense of security;
isolation well-deserved.
But
Curtains,
can be dangerous.
Curtains
can keep you from the truth,
keep you from your life
outside your life.
Curtains
can make you feel stranded
and helpless.
Curtains
can make someone go crazy,
crazy enough to take a bottle,
keys,
and a gun.
Curtains
will make you drive around for two days,
THINKING
about your two sons.
Curtains
will make the hot fat tears roll down your face
in embarassment and pain and agony.
Curtains,
will put that one bullet in the gun,
put that gun to your head,
and pull.
Curtains,
will blind,
and lie,
and ****,
and tear,
and rip,
and hurt
you,
if you let it.

We dont sleep,
we dont eat,
we block out as much of the world as we possibly ******* can,
and we drown ourselves in the depth of our mind
dragging the ones we love with us because we cannot bare losing them,
the way we lost ourselves.
We become the crazies,
the insanes;
labels in a world full of 'blank pages',
the outcasts that no one feels sorry for because we put ourselves in that situation.
WE skipped that meal
WE bled that word
WE drank the bleach
and
WE tied that rope around our ******* necks
because of words that could never hurt
because you were bored
because you saw the surface
because you don't ******* care that we are you in another body.
I hurt the same way you do
but you don't see
because of the smile on my face
because the walls I built became my home
because I have perfected this ******* mask.
We sat alone in our rooms feeling the weight of your judgement roll down our cheeks and into our hearts with knives and pens sticking out,
warping the way we would ever see the world again.
I want  you to know you are not alone
and that
yes
we made that decision
but it was YOU who pulled the strings on those puppets.