I'm scared of the silence
Lately I distrust my thoughts
I don't like the voices in my head
That finds the confidence to speak up during the lateness of nights
I think the only reason I keep listening to John Mayer
Is because when he sings about the troubles I am facing
He sings in a melody that makes me confuse the ugliness of myself
For ocean waves and spring birds
His soft tenor creates an illusion of a truthful beauty
When in reality no truths are beautiful
All those who are honest are usually lonely
No one wants to be told the truth because
They can't handle it
No one wants to acknowledge something they can't handle
And no one
Should be forced to listen to their thoughts when it speaks of truths
That have yet been masked by the
Soft strings of the fender stratocaster Mayer cradles as he
Pours out ballads of lonely nights and broken loves
The biggest flaw about being human
Is the ability to feel for everything
It weakens the soul

I am not a poet.
My words mean nothing to the world.
The world cares not of what I have to say.
Poetry does not speak to me.
It might be whispering but I cannot hear.

I am not a poet.
I do not know how to make words sing.
My phrases do not dance.
My words express no emotions.
My letters only sit on a page and stare at you.
No exchange.
You simply read on and then move on.

There simply isn’t a flow.
And all I know is,
My metaphors and similes simply make up memories and  used to bes.

Even the rhymes don’t make sense.
I possess the passion but lack the talent.
Therefore, it’s only time wasted.
The fact of the matter is,
I am not a poet.

Let's celebrate to something new
Something real
Something different
Something painful
To declare joys, or reminisce the past
Whatever this something is, or ends up being.
Let's celebrate because it's something, and it's better than nothing.

I'm scared of silence
Lately, I distrust my thoughts
Because I don't like the voices in my head that find the confidence to speak up during the lateness of nights.
I always hear them whisper misery
An uninvited company that lacks the courtesy to find its way out.
On nights like these it hits me.
The only reason I keep replaying John Mayer
Is because when he sings he sings
about a common trouble.
And opens up for me to escape.
He descants in a melody that makes me bemuse the ugliness of myself.
Leaving me with an atlas mapped out with a road trip planned to a destination far from my current state.
Mayer leaves me numbed with talks of the ocean waves and train rides in Georgia
All escaping in his
soft tenor that beautify my afflictions.
When in reality nothing painful is beautiful
Nothing beautiful should ensue from agony
Purple and black fingerprints left on a woman's face should never be mistaken for finger paintings.
I'm not one to speak
For I lack the ability to handle my own complications.
Problems arising from all corners of my life have me centered in a hallow room compiled with letters addressed to myself.

Who are you becoming?
Why should I love you?
What makes you important?

Questions I still stutter upon when answering
They should be memorized by now but the inauthenticity of it has me living life a hollow.
A vacant in my own true skin.
But seems to find a home in everyone else's business.  
I tell myself it's just a distraction.
We all need distractions from ourselves.
Leaving questions unanswered and feelings bare.
But soon to be left masked once again by the
Soft strings of the fender stratocaster Mayer caress on lonely nights.
While pouring out ballads of long loves and solitude he tells me that I'm perfect lonely.
And I believe him.
Though something is missing.

I believe him.
And I take it.

Besides the greatest flaw about being a human
Is the ability for one to feel [for everything].