Today I wrote a poem
It took me five minutes
It was short,
A little choppy,
And pretty irrational,
But people really seemed to like it.
It got so many comments
And an encouraging amount of favorites.

So I decided to write another one.

This one took me two days
I poured my heart and soul into it,
And then set it free to start it’s life of internet fame
Only this time,
The poem got two likes
And no comments.

I guess people don’t like looking at my soul
That’s okay.
I’ll keep putting it on display anyway
Because maybe someone will like it
And then maybe they’ll comment on it

I don’t like waiting, but I will
Because I know that souls are hard to look at
When I take five minutes
To jot down a thought,
It’s so simple
But my heart and soul are much more complicated.

So take your time
Like it or don’t
But I’ll be happy, because
The most genuine form of writing is when you write to yourself.

In the darkness
of an empty room,
I cry in the corner
seeing visions of you.

I want to feel your touch.
Feel your touch, feel your touch.
You held out your hand,
but I couldn't grab on.
These guilty pleasures
are held, in front of me.
These guilty pleasures
are taking a hold on me.
I can't break free,
Can't get back up
There are no pieces
left to pick up.

As I lay in the dark
of a nice warm bath.
Planning how to take my life away,
I breathe in deeply
drift beneath the water
Until I struggle to breathe
That is when visions of you
resurrect me.

I want to feel your touch.
Feel your touch, feel your touch.
You held out your hand,
but I couldn't grab on.
These guilty pleasures
are held, in front of me.
These guilty pleasures
are taking a hold on me.
I can't break free,
Can't get back up
There are no pieces
left to pick up.

Kneeling in the shower
praying to a God
that doesn't exist.
Don't know the difference
between reality and make believe.
As I look towards the shower head
I still can't see.
These scars that cover me
may need rebandaging.
He's a lost cause,
an abomination.
He's a disgrace
to the human race.
We've been here before
I'm all alone, in this empty room,
Crying in the corner
seeing visions of you

I want to feel your touch.
Feel your touch, feel your touch.
You held out your hand,
but I couldn't grab on.
These guilty pleasures
are held, in front of me.
These guilty pleasures
are taking a hold on me.
I can't break free,
Can't get back up
There are no pieces
left to pick up.

Oh, I've lost myself
everything makes no sense.
I think about the time
you said that you'd be there,
I'm not sure you even cared.
But your smile saved my life
a million times before.
I'm in need of you,
but this time you're gone.
Not sure I will survive anymore.
As I kneel in the shower
praying to a God that doesn't exist,
This razor penetrates my skin.
The blood trickles down the drain,
He falls to the floor,
crucified he cried
Crucify me tonight.

I want to feel your touch.
Feel your touch, feel your touch.
You held out your hand,
but I couldn't grab on.
These guilty pleasures
are held, in front of me.
These guilty pleasures
are taking a hold on me.
I can't break free,
Can't get back up
There are no pieces
left to pick up.

Oh! My star has fallen tonight,
If they were there,
he might still be alive
every night,
he died a little more inside,
my star has fallen tonight

As I lay in the darkness
of an empty room
staring at the ceiling
seeing visions of you
I see your smile
it puts my mind at rest
I fall asleep
knowing I truly was blessed.

©2017 Written By Benji James

you. don't. get. to.
choose {really}
it's-just -some-melt;
you don't
ex _  pect
the ~ way ~ her ~lips
>move
anytime; she says your
name°
[just a hint of a lisp]
\ she leaves you \
@stalled:..........
& there   ^you    ^are
     sm i *ling

Sand in my toes
Can't get it out
Five tours
Does that to you

Sand in my mouth
Can't get it out
Five tours
Does that to you

Sand in my nose
Can't get it out
Five tours
Does that to you

Sand in my ears
Can't get it out
Five tours
Does that to you

Sand in my eyes
Can't get it out
Five tours
Does that to you

Sand in my brain
Can't get it out
Five tours
Does that to you

Five tours
Out
With a bang
Does that to you

©  2017 Jim Davis.