I could write the most beautiful poetry if I wanted to. But what good is the poetry if it’s complete without you.

How to become a poet:
Let someone rip your soul apart.
And in the need of mending ,
You will replace it with words.

I'm dead,
I have already committed suicide,
No you can see me,
You can feel me,
You can read me,
But you can't find even a single reason to call me alive,
No I haven't got cut on my hand,
& haven't ever tried to hang,
But I have got my heart bleed,
I have got it broken,
I couldn't actually die,
& sorry I'm unable to keep myself alive,
Not my fault,
cause I'm the one
never loved,
never cared,
never caressed,
never being consoled,
never being hold...
So here is a midway,
So here is a dead me,
With a human body,
Healthy & fit
A ***** kit!!!
What if I can't cut my lifeline,
I have already cut my connections with life & now I think it's all fine...