People tend to think it's an act
When you want to **** yourself
And it kind of is
You have to put on an act every day
In order to get through basic ****
Showering,
Eating,
Social interactions,
It's all an act
But you still want to die
That part most definitely isn't an act
That's the most real part of you
The deadest part inside
Is what's keeping you alive

The attention seeking *****
Seeks attention
Because they wonder if anyone actually gives a ****
Or if everyone else is putting on an act, too
Because if all the world's a stage,
And we're all just acting,
Then why not **** off some characters
Shakespeare got rid of Romeo and Juliet
And they were still famous
They were still the stars
And if you can be the star
But still be dead
Then why keep on living
When you're already dead inside

He seemed to be the perfect guy,
Handsome, popular, athletic, and smart,
With his only flaw being his overprotective nature.
She seemed to be the perfect girl,
Beautiful, popular, kind, and loving,
With her only flaw being that she's too generous.
They seemed to be the perfect couple,
Buying little gifts for each other for no reason,
Sending cute messages every morning,
Always there when the other needed them.
It seemed to be the perfect break-up;
They said they still loved each other,
But thought they would be better
For each other down the road.
They said they would wait.
He seemed to be okay with it,
But at night he would cry into his pillow,
Thinking of nothing else but her,
Needing her by his side.
She seemed to be okay with it,
But some part of her believed it was her fault,
And when the razor came out,
She definitely was not okay with it.
They seemed to have gotten over it, and were now
Just “best friends”, but in reality, every day
They drifted further and further apart,
Until the person they claimed they were
So in love with was a complete stranger.
He seemed to be getting better;
He no longer stayed up at night crying, instead,
He had found other girls to
Take her place by his side.
She seemed to be getting better;
The bright flashing makeup was there
To help hide the fact that she still wore long sleeves.
Everything seemed to be okay,
They seemed to be okay.
But everything is not as it seems.

For you, I'll make a nest
on top of the church spire
and fashion it
from plastic straw
and dangling colored wires
I'll cushion it with cold receipts
and pocket lint
and party flyers
and leave each morning
an early bird
to pluck stale crumbs
and rancid meat
from drifter's blackened feet
before even the buses
took to the street

You will feel at home

I will feel concrete

Go easy
On her Heart

I know it ain’t
That easy for you

She lays bleeding out
In your empty excuses

You could’ve known
And should've done

Different
If not
Better

I broke my heart into pieces today-
It scattered all over the floor,
My friends stood and stared at me blankly,
And said "what are you doing that for?"

I broke my heart into pieces today-
It seemed like the right thing to do,
I figure now they can cover more distance,
And hope one of those pieces finds you.

I left bits on the train in the subway,
And some beneath shady old trees,
A few dozen in pages of favourite books,
And let a few drift on a breeze.

Yes, I broke my heart into pieces today,
As people gave dumbfounded stares,
I tried to explain to them calmly;
A broken heart's one that still cares,

So I broke my heart into pieces today,
To stop it going withered and black,
Hoping maybe one finds the right person,
Who is capable of loving it back.

I left one of them in this poem,
If you find it, dear reader, take care!
It is capable of loving you fully,
Though it's barely a wisp in the air.

LOVE  A  WOMAN

I just love a woman with a mind
More-so one of her own
Doesn't depend on anyone
An open mind is her home

Doesn't need peers for advice
Always speaks her very mind
Uses the brain she was born with
Her life is hers you'll find

With honesty integrity values too
She walks to the sound of her drum
Doesn't feel the need to tell of her life
If others don't like it best to get one

What is hers it remains hers alone
Her mind is hers within as well
Knows how to keep things to herself
No need for gossip at at all to tell

Knows what she wants and what not
Her smile is priceless her eyes shine
Love a woman who is all woman
Love a woman can make up her mind

Rare to find shes never blind left behind
The very captain of her very own soul
Not a lot to find these days in life
A soul so very on track since days of old

terrence michael sutton
copyright 2018

He speaks the language of flowers
Quietly toiling in his garden
Digging, raking and smoothing soil,
Gently coaxing nature to match his vision.
He knows the bees, spiders, beetles, worms and earwigs
Regarding them as friends.
He follows seasons, moon and stars
As others do people
Enthralled at the changes they bring.
He listens as the birds sing
Watching with joy as
Fledgling take wing.