.
A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's the tears that trickle with radiance through words.
     It's a treasure trove that hides but longs to
     be found.
          It's a book shelved high that wants to
          be read.
               It's the freest of all birds caged but
               unbound...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't beat to the capable strokes of the artist.
     It doesn't pump in the most vibrant of
     colours.
          It doesn't wield a paintbrush to
          translate its thoughts.
               But it can see through the eyes of
               painters...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't conform to the conventional parameters of lyrics.
     It doesn't bind itself to the requirements
     of musical harmony.
          It doesn't follow the conventions of
          genres.
               But it sings its voice loud without
               restrictions of melody...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's an open secret, that whispers in metaphoric codes.
     It's an exploding universe, that merges
     back into galaxies.
          It's a sought after painting, that boasts
          of unfathomable beauty.
               It's an everlasting song, that echoes
               within the poet that embodies...

You are unique, and you are more special then you shall ever know.
You have a purpose, you are truly special. thank you for being you.
There is no other person that could ever take your place here.
For you are truly an inspiration, someone who is very special indeed.
I thank you, for being who you are and am grateful to have met you.
For you are truly a special and awesome person thank you too.
For being the person that you are, I just want to thank you.

you tore me away from reality
with simple sentences
and idiotic jokes

you made me forget
everything

I didn't know what to think

or what to do with myself.

I guess I just ended up becoming yours.

now you've broken
everything

you've broken everything and you expect me to pick up the pieces

I will
I can guarantee that

but I can't guarantee that I will find all of the pieces

some will be lost,

maybe even broken smaller.  

some will have been stolen,

by nightly visits or maybe
close relatives

and I know we might be able to get them back but

I don't want to scrape my hands picking up the glass that you broke

I don't want to work for something and go against people while you're sitting in your high chair waiting for some gratification

I don't want my blood all over your floor
when I know you're not even going to help

I don't want to feel
guilty
or vulnerable
when we talk

but I guess that's how it goes

because humans have needs that need to be fulfilled

no matter how hard it is for someone else to fulfil it for them.

For about six years,
I haven't been able to control my emotions.
For about six years,
I've struggled to wake-up in the mornings without wanting to change who I am.
For about six years,
I have given-up every single poistive thing about me
because I am hooked.
For about six years,
I thought I was cool.
For about six years,
I thought my life was riding high on "Cloud-9"
For about six years,
I've been dependent on any chemical that will alter my mind.
For about six years,
I've struggled to look at my own reflection.
For about six years,
I've made my family cry and push me away.
For about six years,
I've watched friends come and go.
For about six years,
I've been lying to the people I love.
For about six years,
My life has been nothing but a blur.

For about six years,
I've wanted to stop.

And today
will be
that
day.

Father, are you there?
Are you listening?
Do you care?

I need you.
I want to laugh and talk
Like we used to.

Father, return my faith.
I need to believe
In You again some day.

Why are my dreams failing
They aren't supposed to
When are they happening?

Father, do you love me?
What is wrong,
Why would you let this be?

Isn't it amazing how easily we can lose ourselves?
Transported into books, stranded in the woods,
Staring blankly as our minds drift away from us...
Honestly, it's so very easy to get lost now days.
With ideas and gadgets and so much knowledge,
One could even become lost in themself!
Yet here we are, reading poems, trying so hard
To lose ourselves in words. To be free of society,
For however briefly. So I emplore you all,
Stop stressing, relax, and lose yourself in
The beautiful art of Poetry.

Poetry has become my self harm,
I only write at my lows...
Instead of blood I see words,
Instead of a blade I have a keyboard...

I want to write about...
The wind dancing with the sea...
Or...
The way you smile and it lights up your innocent face...

I don't want poetry to be my self harm,
Because poetry is beautiful...
An art...
Not.
Just.
Blood.
And.
Scars.