You say you love me
But I'm not that sure.
I am all that you could hope for,
No, not ask for, hope for
- You can hope for more than you can ask for -
And still you go crawling back to him.

What is so wrong with me?
He only wants you when you're drunk.
He only wants you when you're ****** up.
I think you're beautiful every moment of every second of every day.
It can be helped.
I am a slave to visions of you.

And you, well you sit and laugh at me
With fake tears of forsaken love
Rolling down your cheeks,
The only purpose of which
Is to keep me engrossed with who you are.

And yet you are not who even you picture.
A simple angel, who has never taken a wrong step in her life.
Really a torture device employed upon me by myself.
The fact that you hold stronger and stronger
Every day that I hold you in my heart and mind,
Causing me pain, the likes of which
not even Helen of Troy could conjure in any soul.

Why do I have to put myself on the receiving end of this?
What do I think I can possibly get from this?
How could all of this end right?
It is still in the cards to decide,
Though they seem to be rather stacked against me,
And I don't even know if I can help myself,
Because pathetic does not even begin to describe me.

In short, I am a sad slob who can't hold a girl of my own.
I am a jealous fool who thinks he can win the girl.
I am nothing short of a loser who thinks he is a player.
And I am... nothing.
Nothing without you.

Believe me when I say
I will not, would not go
Though you should follow
If I leave this mire in the gloom
As sight becomes blurry
To the drone of this sorrowful dirge
We turn to follow the troop
Our form behooves this movement
The words spew from our mouth
Hollow though true, as if the buyer knew
Lacking fury in our mood
We wallow in the trove
To the tune of our own drum

Tomorrow is too long
Tonight is monotony
Tomorrow night looks to be a place called Perfect
Or at least 'til it rolls on by
And when it does
Things will shake out
Events will come to pass
- Or they may not -
But either way
Tomorrow night will form my actions
And shape my being
For how far in the future who knows
And it all goes down tomorrow night
I'll be there
Will you

Insecurity,
It's what drives my world around.
Insecurity is writing a poem about a girl
Who you thought was meant to be, then
Turn around and find out
She thought you were meant to be a joke.
Insecurity is the twisting in the depths of my stomach,
Wondering whether you are mine
Or if chasing clouds would be a better use of my time?

Can't you just love me for me?
Love me for my bad jokes,
Love me for my sloppy clothing,
Love me for the slob lifestyle I live?
And for always having a shoulder to cry on,
Two ears ready to listen to your problems,
And an insatiable urge to see the bright side of even the worst problems?
To get you smiling and back on your feet.

And when times are at their worst -
And things look to only get worse -
I will be there with a smile,
Just glad to have you near me,
Because that's all that really matters
To me.

I look at you and the world sings,
But when I compose
All that comes are words words words.
If it were possible to write
A symphony
The likes of which the world has never seen,
And when you pass
May never be heard again,
I would.
It would flow out of my pen
As the blood in my veins
When I have mere thoughts of you.
A gushing torrent unable to be stemmed
Proclaiming you my best
Whirls around endlessly in my head
Only to stop its grand procession
If you decide to walk on by.
And with that moment
The stream of my body will tire,
Slow to a trudge, and then begin to sleep.
And my life will sleep,
Perchance to dream you back to me.

How do you tell a 19 year old boy that he is in Love?
More importantly, how does he tell himself?
At this point in life, that admonition is more life self-incrimination,
Than the natural steps for a smitten heart.

For so long the lone wold has roamed the range,
And now that one has been found that feels the same,
The instinct to go run and hide away
Must be corralled and eliminated from the brain,
With proper manners, class, and tact instilled in its place.

Though he feels so strongly, and always sees her face,
And with thoughts of her never far from reach
- Hovering on the edge of consciousness for easy access -
The ripping sound is his being being torn apart, heart and mind at odds with each other.
This self-perpetuating war in those maturing from boys into men,
These internal struggles time and again testing their carriers' mental fortitude.

Eventually will he just give up?
Or does he tend to fold and give in to the strain?
Could he possibly soldier on, keeping shredded thoughts to himself?
I sure would like to get a hint if you know,
T'would save me a lot of trouble, time, pain, and sorrow.

I find it almost funny
How hard it is to make the right decision.
You can have convinced yourself
That you are going to do the wrong thing and yet,
When time finally comes to act,
As you set your feet to march off in the wrong direction,
An unending stream pulls against you towards what's right
And the more effort and want you put into resisting the flow,
Only turns the stream into a roaring river,
Irresistible as it throws you at the right choice.

Though by far the funniest part about the whole thing is:
Once you give in and just go with the flow,
Making that right decision in the end
Turns out to be the best by days and years,
And this opinion is only made stronger
Due to how hard your subconscious mind body and soul
Opposed your initial decision to make the other choice,
And by the dividends you are being paid
Now that you went through with what is proper.