Sometimes I feel like I'm loosing it
Sometimes I feel like I already lost it
But there's that little hope I have deep down in my pocket
I don't try and hope I don't try to expect because every time I do I get let down from it
So I just keep it distant from my actual thoughts
And I'll keep trying my best
but hope is what hurts me
Hope is the let down of the century
You can't hope for what you can't control
And you can't control others so should we hope?
All we do is make wishes
Hoping there's a higher being above us
Hoping we die
hoping we live forever
It's this constant cycle of hate and self loathing .
Sometimes we all feel when we're lonely
But it's you in the end and you can't hope for success you work for it
only you can change you
Only you can judge you
Only you can make yourself happy
And hoping isn't really healthy

I painted a picture
A picture for you
With elegant colors
The perfect stroke
My paintbrush
Painted itself
My emotions
Drew it all out
Patience
As I take time
With each line
The shape of your face
Seeping into the canvas
The perfect picture
In my mind
As I get closer to
The finish line
My patience become
Unnoticeable
I forget to go slow
And my lines become
Scribbles and
It doesn't look like you anymore
I spent hours
Driving myself insane
Hoping it would be perfect
When I put it into your hands
Now you'll never see it
And I wasted time again
Trying to paint the perfect picture
The perfect picture for you.

The window was my television
The carpet was my bed
The only thing I looked forward to was you coming in
I couldn't care about the food or how comfortable I was
All I could care about was hoping you'd come home
I'd cry and I'd cry
But it didn't do much
I yelled at anyone who came in my path
Because, it wasn't you.
I'm tired of this window
This carpet needs to be cleaned
My stomach is empty
I have nothing to eat
I was worthy to you
Your not worthy to me
A mans best friend
But a friend doesn't leave
And never come back.
Rip to me
The dog
You didn't care about

Overthink the things you say
I can't believe ,any day.
I can't believe what I see
I can't see the real from the make believe I just hope and Ill just see but, what if what I see isn't reality.
That's the ****** up thing you cant always believe what you see
So what is trust without proof.
What if what I see can't be proved.
I love you
Sincerely ,
Me to you

I dont even know where we are honestly.
Scared of the death of your car battery
Were unfocused
Street signs unnoticed
Though you were in the game
sh*ts been over.
What will we do with our lives  
as we grow older.
Days turn into nights
it gets colder
Do you feel like a badass  
always looking over your shoulder?
You have been used  
so have I.
As I look out the window
just me and you
I realized all the things we have been through.
Wondering why we both take the abuse
thats what love tends to do
Gets us confused
Sometimes in silence lonely in our rooms
its never a goodbye always, “see you soon”
As we drive down the street  fighting or not.
You're always going to be my first thought.
No matter how much i see you its never enough
I can never get sick of your love.

Piece of paper slowly drifting in the wind
At  one point that paper had life to it.
The rain washed it away and the wind let it go
What was on that paper no one knows
You left a note, it said goodbye
That's when I realized things get left behind.
There's no need to cry
It happens all the time
Took a journey on its own
To a place unknown  
With different people, different faces
Things leave to different places  
I took the note you left me
Threw it in the wind
Told it to never come back again
Were you went no one knows
I'm still at the place we called home

I'm trading sticks of cigarette for a poem
Bottles of beer for a few more
Whiskeys make me forlorn
Why not a few more poems
So I scribble and scribble some more

I'm trading my loneliness for lines
Rhymed or rhymeless, why should I mind
When the please the eyes and tickles the mind
I sure will memorize and mimic them like a mime
So I'm still scribbling on this torn paper of mine

I'm trading my hearts pain
Trading it for a paper and a pen
Like a painter ready to paint
I deep my petite paint brush in a bowl of paint
Dap dap, little dots, strokes and dashes as I dare to paint
Little by little the whole picture is becoming plain

I'm trading all love's tears
Tears shade in secrecy for a poem shared publicly
Though seemingly absurd but poems brings this inconceivable peace.
So I'm scribbling and scribbling my way to serenity.

I trade it all for a piece of poem
I may not have made the point
But I've washed clean my plough
And starring at this beautiful not-so-beautiful poem
I have read and reread it that it is starting to sound like a song.
Reading one last time, "my best trade ever".