A smile for a while
A grin for a time
A laugh, one chuckle
No money for a rhyme-----
D
O
W
N
B
  E
L
  O
W
A poet goes
Hoping to get just one
View---- a poet is born
By the millisecond
A window of
opportune.
Some poets dream
Of Mars
Some the stars, sun and moon.
Some are rich and some are poor-----
Some have houses
Yet no money for a bedroom door
Some poets write with pens
Others write with their teeth,
Other poet's write with pain and excite
Some poets write rapping streets
Some poets write of amor, some write of drug use
Of their future's in store.
Some poets write for fun and play
Some write of their deaths
Some in June and may
Some poet's change their lives
As others write sweet lullaby's
Some poets are me and you
The someone's are somebody's
That someone is you.

Praise to God, praise.
For this is the prayer to thee.
Raise your hands to the most high, raise him above all crime.
Speak of love, sing of joy, scream of salvation.
For on one of these days-
Jubilee will come to save.
Save all in His name, who will follow His pain.
This is the prayer to the one who lives, in the sky above.
Smiling at His children far below.

I always thought that you was heartless, emotionless, or at least that you hid it well.

I always saw you as someone sure of himself, someone who don't need nobody, a whole.

But, what if i was wrong?
What if you were even more broken than me?
What if your heart had burst into so many pieces that you can't find it anymore?

I wonder what happen to you to be that way now.
Who is the cause of that?
What she made to you?

I write poems about beauty;
Your name is on every line.
And how your pretty little fingers
Were made to perfectly fit into mine.

I write songs about perfection;
Your name echoes all through.
And how this hellish life on earth
Seems so heavenly with you.

I try to form perfect rhymes,
But to what mere words can I rhyme thee?
For 12 lines are too few to put into words
How much you mean to me.