This is a message to all the ones
who find themselves alone in
their rooms on a Friday night.

I know downstairs is not the same-
different rooms, different pains.
Believers saying this is a good life.
A good good good good life.

Sister is telling you you're
too young to understand-
that you don't know what you're saying.

Mommy and Daddy are separated
into different rooms and they're telling you:
"Baby, nothing is broken. Wipe away those tears."
Wipe it away. Fade away. Forget it.

They are Oblivion.
From the bottom to the roof,
brick by brick living in
Oblivion.

I've been trying to write about you for hours,
hoping the words will flow naturally,
and finally it'll all make sense.
But the hours have become days
and the words never came
so I'm just as confused as when I began.

The Love Of Poetry

We consider ourselves writers
Painting pictures with our words
So others have a chance to view
A message that needs heard

We hope that we are givers
Of wonders never seen
That each new verse that we write
It is something someone needs

We try to make a difference
Give a different point of view
Hope that they will understand
Maybe change a life or two

I call myself a poet
And I do all the things above
Although I do this for myself
I also do it out of love

The Love Of Poetry

Carl Joseph Roberts