I wish I could leave my past behind me, go to a place where it can't find me..
I know I'm not supposed to look back and always look forward, but everywhere I go I see it's track like it's already where I'm heading towards..

My past, I'm looking for an escape and I can't wait, just give me a cape and let me fly before it catches up just to watch me die. I'm a joker like Robin Williams wearing a fake smile living a lie..

'It can't be that bad', yeah you didn't read Super Dad. I don't even understand the past I had. Read it, then you'll know it's me that's mad..

'Talk to a therapist' what? Open up to someone who going put me on a page and stick me on a shelf, thinking they know something about me when I don't even know myself?.

Yeah that's a joke like a broke bank, thinking I'm crazy just wait till you enter my think tank and your mind wanders to my rank..

Hanging out late nights constantly dealing with the internal fights. Praying to the Christ with one-way conversations, feeling rejected by the church's congregations..

I wish I could go back and relive my mistakes, and turn them like a story just call'em my retakes..

Yeah I think it's time for me to escape, forget the cape, I'll just put on my headphones and put on my favorite song forgetting about all that's wrong..

Just put'em in words without a pen, just type'em on this phone  then copy and paste leave'em to waste till they find a home with one who can relate.. Yeah.. that's my escape.

             by John Lee

It seem to be the only way I can communicate..
With words and riddles written, because I struggle speaking out with feelings hidden..

It's sometimes hard with my vocabulary being small..
It's like searching for a crowd in a empty hall..

Forever waiting for the invitation to that popular ball, but not knowing anyone is like eating alone in a crowded mall.

Writing my tangled emotions and feelings to post for the world to see..

No matter how many viewers that read , still no one will ever know me..

Even though, I'm still at peace, because it's not about me..
In this little world of our lives, we are all poetry..

                              by  John Lee