I wish I was Stronger.
Handsome.
Attractive.

Instead of this whiney
Hopeless
*******.

I knew a girl who liked to draw,
she drew pictures that nobody saw.
She was most artistic late at night,
in the bedroom, out of sight.
She kept it a secret, without giving any clues,
not a soul knew, and her gallery grew and grew.
It was a different kind of art, no paper or pen,
but needed some stitches or bandage now and again.
I took her to the dark and murky river,
which reminded me of my life.
It was then when she rolled up his sleeves,
and showed me her scars with embarrassed eyes.
I laughed at Irony,  and rolled mine up too,
"I draw as well", i whispered and stood.
Taking her hand, we jumped into the river,
and  rain of white feathers fell.
That's when the demons quited,
and the river turned clear  as the sun rose up ahead.

and you clung to me
the way wet jeans
stick to my legs
in hard rain
and we may have well been soaked
because that night
you cried enough tears
to flood this whole town
you cried enough tears
to drowned us both
it's a good thing we float
your heart was a storm
beautiful
mysterious
unpredictable
misunderstood
and let's not forget
potentially destructive
but i didn't care
i wanted to understand
to feel
to devour
every drop of your pain
every ounce of your shame
i wanted to show you
the sun inside you
i wanted to show you
the new day
that's waiting
behind your leaky eyes
and runny nose
and broken soul
but for now
you can cling to me
release you agonies
and i will never
let you think
that you are anything less
then gold
and i will never make you feel
that you are anything less
then whole
and i will never
let you sink
so hold me tight
and don't let go

I wish I could write something beautiful,
But the only words I can manage
Are ‘drowning’ and ‘suffocating’,
And we all know there’s no beauty in death.

My body is a fresh canvas just waiting to be filled,
But I have filled it in the wrong way --
Ruining it with cuts, scratches, and burns;
Nothing beautiful or something to be shown off.

In my drawer is a piece of paper,
But I have never written on it.
I am waiting for the day my courage is high,
And I finally need it to write my suicide note.

The life I live isn’t a bad one,
But my past still haunts me.
No amount of faith will diminish the feelings --
The sadness, guilt, anger.

I’ve lived on a roller coaster ride,
But everything comes to an end.
This one will crash and burn
And never be heard of again.

This poem isn’t meant to be beautiful,
But it is supposed to make you think.
Tonight might be the night
I remove the blank paper from the drawer.

Excuse-me,
Was that offensive to you?
I was just pointing out
Something obvious.

Oh dear,
If it were clear
I am sorry to disappoint
It was so smart I missed your point.

We are e(i)ther
On top of the world
Or pi(c)king up the pieces
There is no inbetween
No sh(a)des of grey
O(n)ly black or white
Only euphoric or broken
(T)hey say you should
Love deep(l)y
Or n(o)t at all
But i(s) it possible
To lov(e) someone too much?
I'm not sure of an(y)thing
All I kn(o)w is
I don't think I'll be able to
S(u)rvive
If my already fissured heart
Cracks clean in two(.)