He lives his poetry
that he writes
alone in the darkness
he seeks out the light
his life is a struggle
an endless fight
he cannot back out
not when he is right
and so the journey continues
on a cold endless night.

My pen doesn't write anymore
It stumbles and trembles in my hand.
If Autumn were here, she'd understand.
It's funny how we never know
exactly how our life will go.
It's funny how a dream can fade
within the break of a day.
I'm not sure where you are now
though I see you in my dreams
and I hear everyone say
"Things are not always what they seem".
So I'm often uncertain
if you like your new home
and when I'm uncertain
I write a poem.
Time can't erase the memories
and time can't bring you home.
That time was a part of me
and now a part that's gone.

We don't have ***.
No, we don't ****.
We make love.
And it's wonderful.

You may have died young,
        but as long as
        my words live,

*You will never grow old.

Splintered memories of you
fracture into cracks of scattered longing.
Nothing will repair the broken view
a skewed by time.
Nothing returns to perfection.
The way you smiled, your brown eyes
the way your hair fell
flopped in your eyes.
Eyes that, if they saw me
they lied and shied away.

I'm bleeding out
Almost empty



You spite me
You tried to **** me



Sorry, I should have told you
I'm immortal



I bathe in blood
Drink the souls of those who fail



I created evil
Gave birth to fear



Yet, you think it's simple
To end me here?



Hear that ringing in your head?
That's a sign



Soon enough, I'll have your life
It's mine!



I can't wait until the moment
I steal your breath



It's such a rush
My own ecstasy



Oh, don't even scream
No one cares



Not a single person will hear it
They just don't value life anymore



Haha! Isn't is funny?
It's all because of me!



Now, cry. Beg me!
I want to hear your suffering



It's nothing to be ashamed of
You were misinformed



You didn't know who I was
Now you see



Shh It's all over now
Don't worry dear


After you die
It won't sting

I'm stuck here in my sense of defeat.
I should collapse. I should retreat.
I should give up.
I don't know why,
I even roll out of bed sometimes.
Woe is me
I'm so melancholy.
And your all invited to my pity party.
Now I'm finally calm.
The waters still.
The storms have past.
Puddles filled.
Get out of the dirt.
Leave the dark room.
Isolation is the farthest thing from a tool.