had someone walk in
and you just freeze
because their stunning beauty
took your breath away...

How old were you
When you realized
That your friends
Were slowly disappearing?
Waxing,
Tracing the moon across their fingertips
As they dissolved into stardust?

I am twenty one years old
And I am the loneliest
I have ever been.

We will be writing with a purpose
A reason behind the purpose to write
Let your inner emotions go, and just let the words just flow
You are a Poet
But that is something you must convince yourself
Always remember you are not like everybody else
But then again, you have a choice
Words will be more than just words but have meaning
Understanding with a strategy to find
It’s your inner thoughts combined
Share with the reader your inner horizon
It goes beyond in what the reader may anticipate
It’s about you in what you create
To be a Poet, it’s never too late
What’s in a name, but you must write being your own slate
Your heart is the opportunity to write
It pounds to bring the Poetry out
I hear the reader in appreciation being a shout
Now there is nothing to think out
You are who you are about
So write with enthusiasm in inspiration
There is no separation
So Write On!

To which demons it may concern;

You know me. I'm your worst enemy.
I'm the sunshine that breaks your attempts at drowning her.
I'm the flower petals that infiltrate the scent of your rot.

You wish me gone.
I understand.
But understand in turn that is what I wish of you.

You have no right to push her over any cliffs of your choosing.
You have no right to make her feel as worthless as she does.
You have no right to play upon her heartstrings like an overplayed violin.

And if you ever lay a single claw mark upon her skin again, you'll wish you were back in hell.

Because that's way nicer than where I'm gonna send you.

Sincerely,

Hers