A poem can be a heartbeat
Or just a simple smile
Meant to mend a broken soul
That's smothered with denial

It can be about forgiveness
Words your lips can't speak
"I'm sorry" written on paper
That solace that you seek

It can be about the sunshine
Or the tears that's in the rain
Maybe a long lost memory
That fills your heart with pain

It can be about relationships
Written with your pain
Built on broken promises
With the lies that now remain

A poem can tell us who we are
Or who we used to be
But most of all a poem is written
To set our emotions free

I settle closing my eyes
Go to the edge of the earth and I dive
I don’t descend quickly like I intend to
I’m suspended in air with no flight
My body is immobile yet my mind is frantic with expectation
I ask myself  am I still alive ?
For this is what I fear
Surrounded by clouds that trap me
I don’t want to shelter my fall
I need to feel what is real
My fingers intertwine with the atmosphere
For moments that seem to  pass by
I observe the radiance of the sky
The place where the stars live and the sun dies
But nothing can deplete this despondency
My nucleus is torn open with little shreds of glass
I ask for this to be over at last

All the days were glory days
when looking back on youth.
Eating candy until midnight
still wearing a ghost costume, or
acting stupid in the driveway
light the bowl where mom
can't see you
kissing boys at 2am
in bars where they were men
when you drank until your face was
numb
forgetting who drove home.
Every summer never ends until
the winter comes
and the falling snow reminds you then
the years that passed
when you were young.

I write for expression, not impression.
Physically, I show little emotion.
Mentally, my emotions run wild.
I know that if I keep it all inside
I would explode, and maybe even die.
Because keeping your feelings bottled up
Will turn you into a ticking time bomb
With an unknown date of detonation.

I write because my mind can roam free.
Sometimes through a field full of flowers,
Sometimes through the deep, dark dungeons of hell.
But, wherever my mind chooses to roam
I let its freedom turn into greatness.
My pen’s ink spewing all over the page
Feels like climaxing after great ***:
It allows my mind to chill and relax.

I write because it’s something I’m great at.
I don’t just blend in with all of the rest
I stand right out with the best of the best
And I will not ever settle for less.
But I must confess that it’s not all me
My pen and my pad are essential needs.
Without them all my thoughts would be futile
And the greatness inside would not be seen.


I write because it’s the one thing I love.
Even at my lowest, it cheers me up
While at my highest it can bring me down.
The relationship we have can waver.
Sometimes I feel we are madly in love,
Sometimes I feel like all we do is fight,
But there is one thing I will always know
At the end of the day it’s there for me.