I want my words to be beautiful.
Beautiful like yours.
I want to see ordinary things,
Find the magic in them,
And put the magic on a page, for everyone to understand.

I want to have a way with words.
I want every poem of mine
To become a masterpiece.
Just like yours.

I am not broken.

But you are.

You see the world through pain,
And pain makes the colors brighter.
It makes the value of feelings
Climb higher.

Sometimes I wonder
If I should be broken like you
If I want my words to resonate
Like yours.

Sometimes I wonder,
If it will be truly worth it
In the end.

I wonder what it will be like,
To cut myself up to pour out the beauty inside me.

Just like you.

I imagine that you
Raise the blade
Slice your feelings open
And write your masterpiece
In red.

It was a clear, cool night
The people slumbered in deep sleep
The world was dark, no not a light
My thoughts overwhelmed me, all happiness seeped
And I walked into the clear, cool night
The black of the night matched the black of my mind
Only then was everything alright

I patched the sky in wishes,
White birds flew by.
I prayed to rain in stitches,
Puddles bubbled alive.
I saw a lone flower drinking,
And said I see you shine.
I prayed to the stars blinking,
And offered my blood to moon.

I've always had enough money,
and enough parental love;
my youth is in full spring,
I've always had more than enough.
But there's one thing that I'm lacking,
keeping me in want of satisfaction,
though what it is
I'm not quite sure.