I am a ******.
I force myself onto my poetry,
Even when it wants to be left alone.
I say no, to her no.

She’s the one who’s asking for it.
Walking all pretty, all alone,
Basically begging me to tear her clothes off.
I don’t need her permission.

After I do it, I cry.
I look myself in the mirror and wonder
Why do I do this, why?
I guess I’m just another monster.

The sad thing is
She always comes back for more.
She trusts me more than I do myself.
I don’t get why she does this to herself.

My mind is off to where the rivers flow.
To where the Sun sets and the Moon rises.
That small space between sleep and waking up,
Where no dream seems unreal.

A minute in my head feels like a hundred.
My palace is vast
And every door is a thought,
It’s so easy to get lost sometimes.

Like smoke above the fire
My thoughts run thin.
They escape my cranial inferno
To live beside the Stars.

For that is where they belong,
Dancing on the silky night fabric
With white ants searching for meaning
Only to find, there is none.

A late night with friends,
I have come home at last.
The pain in my head is ceaseless,
My body reeks of ash.

That is the smell of my city,
Soot and smoke,
Its anthem?
The murmur of the crowds.

All of them are idividuals of their own
Yet we walk, breathe and talk as one.
Day, night, rain, or whichever time
I'll still love this merry city of mine.

Three is for how many times you broke my heart.
The damage had already been done, still my soul ached.
Only it never broke, it just bruised.

Two is for how many times I asked if you loved me.
Both times you said yes, you lied.

One is for how many girls I’ve ever loved.

Yes, I’m the one who did it.
I put it there to remind you what once was.
And what could have been.
Now it’s just a melody, which falls on deaf ears.

It could have been a symbol of hope, if you wanted it to.
It could have been a callback to a simpler time, if you wanted it to.
It could have been a pleasant smile, if you wanted it to.
Of course, you didn’t.

You’d much rather have a loud voice in your head.
Or a knight on a horse without legs.
You couldn’t love a bird missing a few feathers.
I hope you’re happy, no I don’t.

The wall will dry and crack, but the mark will stay.
It will serve as a beacon, a lantern for the future.
What once could have been a show of imperishable love,
Is reduced to a simple drawing on a plain white wall.