You stumble out a dry cleaners
Or a 24-7 convenience store
And with your weapon of choice
You brandish and challenge
The chains of the legal system
For a little profit or as you deem
Method of survival.

Somewhere between buying a gun
Finding a gun, or owning a gun
You forgot what it was like
To be a caring brother,
To be a worrying father,
To be a loving mother,
To be an innocent sister,
And when you finally,
Look the eyes of the
about to be soulless,
As you let off alarms,
That ring more than just pain
And blood,
But rings of
your own
guilty conscience,
And heartache for the victim,
You have forgotten what it's like
To be a part of humanity.

She paints masterpieces
Creates beauty with her hands
Her soul restore paper creases
And she brings beauty to all lands.

She brings beauty onto papers,
Beauty that came from her heart
She doesn't need to see skyscrapers
To put charcoal on paper and start.

She brings beauty into this world
Because she makes silence, musical
From all sticks and stones hurled,
She will always be beautiful.

When I was a kid
I lived with my grandparents
And god forbid
They ever enjoy each others company.
I grew up being taught
That if your feelings come short
Just go water the plants
And all your sadness turns to naught.
I was only a kid at the time
But even I knew love wasn’t in their mind,
It was more of a tolerance.

Flowers only bloom
In the face of peoples gloom
Because every rose petal
Lives from a pain that settles
inside all of us.

Star Gazer born and bred under the little specks of light in the night.
Saw gloom part ways with doom through divorce and hatred,
Kept true to name and kept constellations as sacred.
Star Gazer wasn't dumb, wasn't smart, wasn't dark nor bright,
But kept up his shoulders and with each step taken, a fight.

That's what people say about me however,
I am different to what others perceive me as.

I have been and still try to , write my feelings out,
Keep my mind away from clouds of dust and clouds of doubt,
When I first started to write anything at all, I-
Drowned a paper and smothered it within the oceans
Of what I would slowly realise are my emotions.

7 Billion people and I'm truly alone
Walking through the land where the light touches
Being a sheep and following steps I've been shown
The moon my chains and the sun my crutches.

I am alone but never ever lonely
I watched what alcohol does to tired eyelids
The way you'd add if before you say only
Like if only a bed time was enough for kids.

I was certain it didn't just happen to me
It wasn't just me who fought tired red eyes
Replacing sleep with admiring a creepy tree
And filling heads with caffeinated lies.

We haggled over maybe ten to fifteen longer minutes
But shut out our minds and lives at night as we
fought sleep without realising we were already in it
and we embodied the likes of a calming blue sea.

She wears waterproof mascara
Just so it doesn't dribble and dab
Across her face.

She wears a beautiful smile
Just so her soul remains partially
Intact with others.

She wears heartaches
Across her sleeves
In the form of tears.

She wears sadness
In her mind and heart
Until she is worn out.

Too weak for the word-
Love and too strong for hatred-
What word do I seek?

Dear Daisy Dilly Dalley
You noticed I wrote Dilly Dally,
It's because I've been to large valleys,
Roamed through the darkest alleys,
Saw exquisite masterpiece in art galleries,
Met people named Margaret and Mallory
But I still can't address you as Daisy Buchanan.

The green light across the pier still flickers
And even though I bicker
with my subconscious state of mind,
I wonder, is this luxury life-
worth living without you?
Without you by my side?
The green light is but a taunt now,
saying go- yet at the same time
creating a tension in my heart-
saying this.....
will never happen.
Please come back to me,
or at least write a letter back to me-
Give my best to Tom as well...
                                                         ­   Love you always,
                                                               Jay Gatsby

Her body,
The canvas of each poem she couldn't write.
Each cut of a blade,
Each edge of a razor,
Each ink of a bleeding pen,
Each pierce of a broken page
Spells out all her unread poems titled-
'Maybe this is better...'