He opens the gate
To enter the world
Of endless hate
Walks in the house
To put his heart
On a plate
To see all the sections
That his heart has
Hate
Is taking a toll on his
The once lovable boy
That had tons of bumps and
Became something straight
As the gates begin to close
He is one of us

let
my
wings
paint
the
boundless sky
with
pastel
blue-gray
clouds
that
sing out loud

Maybe it's a good thing you never liked my poetry,
Never bothered to really read the book beside our bed.
There is a whole page about you, a whole section of good things.  
Maybe that would have enlightened you to my feelings for you.
But I would never force you to stay.
So maybe it's better you left,
I may gain more.

Your loss will be my gain.

i was never obsessed with hands until i held hers