This poem confirms it.
I am a great poet.
And not because I rhyme,
Because I don’t.
Or because I use metaphors,
Because I won’t
Just like the sky,
I am for everyone.
My words are meant to be sad,
But to overall cause a thought.
To relate my pain to your pain.
To transfer an idea,
The only one which matters.
We are all the same,
Just living our lives differently.
When I am heartbroken,
You are heartbroken.
Because we are all heartbroken.
And so I am a great poet.
Because I can share,
This simple fact.
And make you think,
About that one time a guy or girl,
Broke your heart,
Or brought it back,
And so you’ll say I’m right or wrong,
You’ll criticize the technicalities or,
Over joy over the story I preach,
But in the end we all agree.
I am a great poet.
And this poem confirms it.

I’m sitting alone,
I’m typing a poem.
It’s dark,
And my imaginations gone amuck.
I see killers and zombies
Bears and tom boys.
Mothers and fathers,
Murders and slaughters.
I see a lot of nasty things,
I see things that I wish I cannot see.
The one thing I have never seen.
The one thing I want the most to view,
That which forever is escaping me.
Love eternally.

There once was a girl from Georgia,
And I liked her,
And she liked me,
But I broke her heart,
And it was simply…
Because I was afraid.

We were on a bus that day,
And sitting so closely,
Beautiful as can be…
Playing and laughing, showing magic and tricks,
Teenagers without a worry to say
Except for me,
Because I was afraid.

What do you do?
When your stuck in fear?
For me I lied,
To the one I held dear.
I told her this,
And the mood suddenly changed,
“I have a girlfriend back home,
For your magic she’ll be grinning ear to ear”
Because I was afraid.

I could see the pain,
Covered so slyly under that smile,
While underneath,
Her hear wrecked in facsimile,
Of the storm outside.
Because I was afraid.

It was new,
And it was happy,
And it was everything I wanted,
But I tore it down,
It was change,
It was something I wasn’t ready for,
It was something I didn’t understand…
And it could have been love.

But,
Because I was afraid…
No it wasn’t
And now…
It’s ironic I guess,
That I’m the one,
Who’s really heartbroken.

Loneliness is a common illness.
Yet I reside in it selfishly,
The White walls are all Black,
My mind fades oft to the back.

You made the attempt,
And I made the refuse,
Self-destruction my only attribute.
Pain my only friend.

I see death and hear it too,
It calls out to me in the form of the blues.
I am reaping what I have sown,
Soon, my soul will embark on its final toll.

Love is absent,
Cold is present,
I wish I could feel,
But feelings are for childlike yesterday’s.

I was a happy boy once,
But age is just a number,
At 16 I am older than most,
My face a grave testament, to the graves of friends sentiment.

I am sick with an illness,
One for me not to be cured.
I wish I believed in fate,
It would be much easier then.

Yet there is no one to blame,
Or hide behind,
Only my shadow to reside beside,
Only your memory to taunt my mind.

I have made many mistakes,
And will make many more,
One day in fact I think I’ll be poor,
But the greatest by far,
Was to leave you barred,
To leave you stranded in the backseat of that car.

The wind is calling me now,
It talks to me somehow,
Sayin’ “You won’t be much longer now, won’t be left alone to frown.”
I answer, “Come back when I am dead,”
It echoes, “Won’t be much longer now.”

The tears are empty,
So is the pitcher.
How can I be with ya?
Never, never, never.

I have trouble sleeping,
Harder still to make sense,
Because my dreams are haunting
To this day the leave men incensed.

I am going crazy,
Slowly but surely.
Soon you’ll see me on your door.
Wanting to get our favorite smores.

Silence, now, silent void.
The wind is no longer whispering.
The walls no longer menacing.
Only me, without.
My mind not even speaking,
Not daring to break what is happening.

The windows open without noise,
Outside I can see my future,
Lit in a light other than the moon.
What I see… makes me hope I die soon.

Haunted,
To this very day,
When I saw night,
Under the blue moons blue.
A demon, young as me,
Beginning to spread its wings,
And take off to flight.
And as he majestically spread,
His evil bearers,
I understood the regality,
He must once have carried,
Demons were once Angels…
And that’s what makes them scary.
That something so good,
Could turn so evil…
He attacked viciously,
Everything in sight.
His anger and wrath and lust,
Had no respite.
Until he awoke,
For he was awake but sleeping.
And saw his hands,
Looked quite like mine.
And those eyes which even still,
Were burning…
Looked similar to mine.
And those wings on which he flew on,
Which were never actually there,
Disappeared.
And suddenly I realized.
Where there used to be an Angel,
Now was me,
A Demon.

There is nothing better than the hunt,
As I smile so carnivorously,
I think of when I first began,
The day the search first ran.
It was a beautiful day,
As I was locked inside,
By a mother who doth protest too much,
An decided it was my turn to be beaten amuck.
I cried and I cried,
As old as I was…
There was no end or beginning
To the pain that I felt
And so the only way to ease it,
Was to share this pain, with everyone.
So began, my very first hunt.
And now, many years later,
I wonder ever still,
How the hunter has not become the unter,
Even as the scent of the prey lingers.
She is standing there alone.
Alone.
Just like me now.
Mother is gone, so it’s just me.
Me and the hunt.
She has a beauty,
You’d have to look at for a while,
To truly see.
But underneath she just feels lonely,
Just like me.
So I must hunt her,
And share my pain,
As she walks home alone,
Well I take her by the face,
And I kiss her forcefully,
And smother her fright inside of me,
Take her to the “forest”,
Where all will be decided.
She has calmed on the outside,
But the fear is consuming her eyes,
Slowly I take her clothes,
And oh what a glow,
Her skin seems to have been made for me,
For this very day,
Nothing better than the hunt,
And the trophy that lay,
Beneath me.
Being the Hunter I took and I gave,
With blood and with fear,
Forcefully she was laid.
And after all was said and done,
I think for a second it was clear,
That in that pristine moment,
When she first started to tear.
She felt it, Yes she did.
The pain of the hunter and the hunted.

All these people,
These friends of mine,
They know everything you see.
They can tell the future, its easy to belive.
They tell me,
"Oh, it will get better soon,
Just wait you will be set free"
Funny how, every time,
I'm almost away,
I just get pulled farther,
Deeper under...
The happier I am,
Its like the giant falling,
From that tall beanstalk,
My smiles setting me for,
The sequential falls,
A rollercoaster ride...
A cosmic joke, I suppose.
How many ways can my life be tarnished?
How many times can I fall,
Before I just stay down?
In how many ways can I be imperfect?
And just not care?
Heck I don't know,
Ask my friends,
They can see everything.
Dontcha know?