I **** at poetry,
But I'm an expert at being me
It took years of reflection ever since the *****
But finally...
Now I look from inside
Now I laugh when I cry
Tears that remind me I'm alive
Write carefully...
That's what they tell me to
The voices in my head and the sensei's of the pen
For fear of breaking rules established by who?
well see I don't care, then I ask them
Do you laugh in tune?
Do you cry in tune?
With the gold received from the silence of thoughts
My soul buys the mightiest pen to go to me
Just so I can jot,
I really **** at poetry

Man plays his guitar as he sits in the grass
With Frisbees flying over his head
The man has a stash
Which gives us our moments
What makes things expensive
I don't understand
But what I know is that
living is the best I can

Peter Gabriel's got sun in his eyes
He's still searching but hasn't got a clue cause he's blind

What a sad picnic party and its melting form
Let's ditch this place so we don't have to mourn

Let's go away from the stupid, sad people

So      we     can      be        sad      on         our                      own
  Sad                on         our            own       on      our   own
Sad           on      and    off        and    on   and    off
     Sad    on  our           own              on         our   own       sad

The only true intelligence
is the intelligence of love
most all else is *******

nothing will ever be as beautiful as you.

you may think that even the smallest things possess more beauty, like the way the trees sway when the wind's coming from the northwest or when your favorite song comes on the radio and the grin that appears on your face. but i promise you that there is nothing out there that will ever come close to you. i wish you thought the same about yourself as i did.