We all wonder in the dark
Trying to see the good
Trying to feel warmth

A small red ember falls to the ground
It glows and it gives of warmth
This is how his revolution started
A small speck in the dark

We fed the ember with praise
And likes that made it grow
People gathered as a fire became

People like his light and his warmth
He grew into a bonfire
Though not low on fuel and praise

Our fire has started to wane
Its not quite as bright
Or as warm
But it still changes our hearts

Andy a poet on here is really sick. Though he still manages to change our lives everyday. He's stronger than anything you'll ever encounter. Andy if you're reading this is means you need to kick cancer's **** because we're here to catch you and revive you so you can win. That's what I want for Christmas. For Andy to survive. When he does I will be first in line to say "Andy you've changed my life and I can't ask for a better savior." ---Lukas---

We are critical.

We find flaws in
everything we see
because nobody
wants to write
about perfection,
even though sometimes
we wish we could just stay
staring into that
unblemished surface.

2. We are never satisfied.

We live our lives upon
mountains of
scrunched up
bits of refill and
ideas we gave up
trying to
express.

3. We never forget.

We write words about
eye contact made
three months ago
that we replay over
and over in our minds
even though it
stopped
being relevant.

4. We are fickle.**

Our emotions flash
from one
to the other
like strobe lighting that
disorientates us
until we feel as if
the world
will never be still.

5. We are exposed.

We don't know how
to keep our feelings
to ourselves so
we'll write them
down for
you to find
'accidentally'.

6. We are vulnerable.

We wear our
hearts on our sleeves
and won't lift a
muscle to fight back
if somebody tries
to break it
because we thrive
from the pain.

7. We will never stop.

We will never stop
feeling and
we will never stop
hurting,
we will never stop
breaking and
bleeding and
loving
even though the cycle
is endless
and we know what's
coming next.


We are addicted
to agony,
but we agonise
for the art.

Monday.

First day of the week.

He was absent. Was he sick?

I took a glance at the empty chair.

How I wish he was sitting there.

I hope tomorrow I’ll get the chance to see him.

Cause a day is not a day without him.



Tuesday.

I came at school early,

Wanting to see him badly.

There was a sad smile coated on my face,

When I didn't see him at his usual place.

His chair was still empty.

What happened to him?

I have no idea.

I have no clue.

All I knew, I was feeling blue.

I tried to brush my thoughts away,

And just listened at the class all day.

I thought I’m okay,

That I was feeling fine.

But when I saw his chair empty,

I knew my smile was not happy.



Wednesday.

Crestfallen and disappointed.

He was still not here.

I could feel the emptiness in my mind.

Just like the empty chair in my behind.

I asked my classmates,

They just shrugged their shoulders.

I asked his friends, they don’t know why.

Soon my dark eyes began to cry.



Thursday.

Too many question popped in my head.

Frustrated and confused,

I committed a major offense.

I fled from school during recess.

I want to see him today,

To know the reason of that young man,

Why for four days he was gone.

There was no one in their house.

Only their old maid.

“Where could I find him?” I asked her.

She gave me a piece of paper.

I went home with a heavy heart.

It felt like my world was drifted apart.

I looked at the paper once again,

Tears fell down while reading them.

I don’t how to endure this kind of ache,

I kept on telling it was just a mistake.



FRIDAY.

Fresh flowers I brought,

I put them on the ground.

I smiled bitterly,

As I read his name in the tomb.

“I love you.”  I whispered.

I didn't hear anything in return.

“I love you!” I shouted.

Hoping he’ll answer me at ease.

But all I heard was the sound of the trees.

I cried again..

How many tears should I cry,

For him to come back?

For him to be with me again?

To feel his warmth.

To smell his scent.

To stare at his eyes.

It was too late.

Too late…



Saturday.

I wept until I could no longer feel the pain.



Sunday.

I did what I've done yesterday.



Monday..

I come to school.

Act as if nothing happen,

They asked me if I’m fine,

I nodded and smiled.  

While walking into our room,  

Wearing fake mask behind my gloom.

But tears fell again on my face,

When I didn't see him at his usual place.

I glance at the empty chair,

How I wish he was sitting there.

Dreaming, is Key
Wishing, planning, becoming
Hard to figure out
Carving your way
In a world of vast array

Try a few things
Learn, grow, fail ...
Fall along the way
get up; go again