It's hard when you use to feel way at the top
Like you would never stop
Every one telling you how good you've done
Making you feel like you were number one
But in the blink of an eye you go from one to done
zero, zip, nada, none
You thought you'd never fail the ones you loved
But we all make mistakes
Like breakups and makeups
Sometimes it may be better to just give up
But how many mess up will it take you to realize your done
Never being number one.

i re-read all the poems i wrote months ago when everything was still okay. i wasn't sad, but my poems were. it's funny to think, how i could always find that little peek hole of darkness even though i was surrounded by lights. you were there with me and it was only a two-days fight, but my words formed a sentence of how we were already strangers. maybe i like to exaggerate things. or maybe we've always been strangers from the start because if not, how could you look away every time i try to say hi? people don't just turn into strangers. we were all made by the same stardust and some of us were destined to meet. or maybe we weren't. i don't know; i wouldn't know. up to this day i still think we are each other's even though we are not anymore and i guess that explains a lot about me, and you, and us. us contains of you and i. we are contained of each other. you still keep my heart in your pocket, and i'll always be the first girl you've ever really loved.

They dart with illusioned purpose,
I alone, am distant and far.

They speak on trivial affairs,
I alone, speak not of the obvious.

They delude intelligence,
I alone, can say no more.

What it is I feel,
Never could be construed.

I can offer no consolation
for those tied and unwilling.

This blind expansion of
unnamable multiverse
weighs heavy, might I say.

life slips into the unknown
where imagination tried its best-
to visualise Heaven

I'll write you a meaningless poem
                                                            Of
                           Jumbled
Words                                            And metaphors
Seemingly making the intangible tangible
                            All the while
            I smile
                                                     Knowing
After all
                         These                   words
Are completely random
                                           Phantoms
Of my
                                                                Mind
Clawing away at the inside
                           I'm destroyer
Of my                                                   thoughts
              Purveyor
                                     Of my sins
What i write on paper
                                                  Might as well
                              Be
                                        Meaningless