This morning
I woke up
and thought
all my poetries
were over
but then I saw her
smiling in her sleep
and there it was,
love, yet again.

When I was thirteen
and still seeing daylight
between my ****** feet
I went to spend the night
with my best friend;
we watched Gunsmoke
on the TV and raided
the refrigerator;
I remember his sister
coming home later
and leaving a crack
in her door and taking
off her clothes before
turning the radio
of my childhood on
leaving it playing
all the hot night long
and I sill hum every one
of those sweet songs.

I know Im fake but I wish I was real.
                      I try to do things right...
                      But Im so surreal.
                      Its not my fault that societies a living hell hole.
                      Freedom was something sin and temptations stole.
                      I know Im fake and sick inside,
                      but I can be good if I really try...
                      So before you say mean things about me
                     And tell me my sanity has died,
                      look in the mirror
                      And ask yourself,
                    "Am I real or Im a fake inside?"