The smell of newly fallen rain
overtook me as I  walked out the door.
I took in the sent of damp dirt drying in the rising sun.
The thought of being as free as the world around me mades me smile.
I took a deep breath
and decide today was going to be good.

Maybe if I keep writing
I'll find the words that will help me
complete myself.
And I wouldn't feel so broken anymore

I torn between to parts of myself.
Ones that contradict.
One that believes in beauty, and love, and hope.
Another that holds pain close and a blade even closer.
If someone looked at me they would never see the later.
When I see so much good in the world,
why can only write poetry and sing songs about the hate,
and fear, the anger, the dread, the haunting Voices of the night.
What part of myself is real,
and if i was addicted to happiness instead of misery
would it still matter?

I shut down today,
I hide away from you...
I'm sorry,
but sometimes the pain hurts to much...
You deserve more then me.
You deserve more then I can give you...
And Maybe I can't be fixed...
thank you for loving me anyway,
despite my scattered and sharp edges...

Sometimes I wish so deeply that the optimist I am on the outside
would be part of what what I feel inside as well.

I have an urge to put something down in words...
Something That will make a difference...
That will matter in the long run...
I'm running out of things to say and ways in which to put them down.
so for now I'll settle for the ones that fill my head...
and hope momentarily they are good enough.

Maybe if I was better, I wouldn't hurt so bad
I could see what you see in me.
Maybe If I was better I wouldn't have to pretend..
I could be what I hide inside.
Maybe if I was better, the pain would only be in nightmares
that cover my actual dreams and not just my figurative ones.
Maybe if I was better they wouldn't look at me that way.
Maybe if I was better...I could finally breathe.