I'm not afraid of the dark, I'm afraid of what's in it.
Your worst nightmares come true- truly horrific.

You can't escape it, no amount of light will help,
Once it's begun, it's inside of you- becomes a part of your self.

You'd think having someone beside you would suffice,
But what if they bring the dark? What if they are just someone who plays nice?

You can never be too careful,
Better safe than regretful.

Wish the time of pain and reminiscing would end without putting up a fight,
We should all know bad things mostly happen at night.

Maybe the restless days would then stop,
Maybe then there wouldn't be a time to sob.. just a thought.

Is it childish to have at my side, a night light?
Debatable.. but at least it illuminates the dark.
At least it gives the illusion it isn't melancholic hours, yet- it isn't night.
At least it aids my corrupted mind and bruised heart.

Grimly smiling
At this leg of the race how'd you think I got it made
Done had me some power but never got paid
I volunteered my hours while being mentally slayed
Brain slashed so I lashed out by never sleeping though life always layed me out
Knocked down, ears ringing
Is this my calling?
To stand up taller, am I meant to be a crawler?
I'm not a zombie, I'm just hurt
That you'd think I can't escape the fate set on me, I don't live in hell but I feel burnt
I don't watch burnt movies on the disc though, wouldn't fit in at the disco
I stream em online, I want to get fit but I'm too busy waiting for the video to load
Then the **** thing lags, maybe it's a sign
To use my legs and get buffer
But I didn't brace myself to be cast in this role
Done capped my knees durability and out came my knee cap
Then people finally noticed that I was hurt, but it wasn't my limb they should've been concerned about
But I'm not here to pout, hell I'm getting help
I'm just here to say
When you're ready to give up
Life hits you even harder
To remind you that you're tougher than any doubt you've ever had
You can handle more than even a hurt body, brain, or mind
You ain't dead till you die
You ain't high till you fly
You ain't ahead until you try
It's a lot like rugby, even when the magic rug be out of reach
You can still be a-lad-in joy
There's something about dodging and taking hits that's enthralling
Chaos is beauty
If you don't just let it be but let yourself succeed
A little sweat and blood to get the lead
In the rain wet and loud, passions what I bleed
And obstacles are what my slightly enlarged heart pumps, what it beats
But sometimes I'm choking on led
My lungs are the weapon that gave me a shot, and onlookers say "You're rhymes have no pattern B, so the way you write things is awk, see?
How's this for an ox-c *****!
I'm suffocating on oxygen
Asthma attack at nine months old didn't stop me, a close call they said
But more like a call received
Because looking back now I know my purpose
Is to breathe

I think...
i think writing poetry
is a delicate art form.
When the words come,
they overwhelm my jumbled mind,
until i can barely distinguish
my own penmanship.
It's beautiful, getting hopelessly lost
in intricate poems forever tangled in my brain.

(but sometimes,
the page fills with blah blah blahs,
and my head with la la las,
while my guitar gathers dust in the corner.)