I always knew I looked like her:
same eyes, smile, ****** expressions,
and even our glasses and smiles.
I always knew that my curls and her
        straight hair separated us.
I always knew that we liked the same things,
disliked the same things.
I always knew our hands wrote the
        same.
I always knew that her fear of
        something
and my love for that thing
made us unique,
but today I learned something new.
We talk the same.
I may swear more,
but I'm not really sure.
I've heard her swear once when she
        was mad,
and every other time,
she was reading a foul line.
But when we're happy,
we have the same tone,
the same speed,
the same words.
When we're sad,
you can hear it in our voices,
see it in our eyes,
notice it in our slouching spines.
And when we're proud of others,
we let them know.
Oh, over and over again,
we let them know.
I'm proud to say I'm like her,
and maybe not seeing her for a year,
I'll be okay.

I spent 13 years building a brick wall around myself
3 years building a bombproof shelter
I even added windows
To see the outside world.

But I forgot the fire exit
And now the fire's lit
The smoke is filling up my mind
Burning all of me.

Gone is the (com)passion
Gone the creativity
Gone the personality
Just bitter memories in their fireproof box.

Even as I build the bomb shelter
I scream for a way out
Searching for a weakness in the wall
That isn't there.

At least I painted the outside
Simple, bland, attractive
In universal white
So good, nice, boring.

Oh look, I'm stuck in the only corner left
Holding tattered fragments of burnt personality
Waiting for the fire to burn
Me up.

1)
She said happy and I burst into tears
They ran like they carried the worries I held
Wearing away the mortar of my wall

The bricks are still there but
You can remove with ease
Bombproof shelter  has breathing hole

2)
Entire section of wall removed
Door put in place for optional use
Copies of data discovered on a USB stick

I gazed into your eyes and my troubles melted away
I didn't even notice you take down the bombproof roof
Now I can see the stars

3)
Kind honesty heals me
Carefully the bricks are put into neat piles, sorted
For use as a garden feature

Sledghammer handed over
The dynamite put in place
The bombproof shelter is no more

Do you ever get those days? When the only thought running through your mind is 'I want to go home'
But you are home. You are in your bed with lungs that don't feel like yours and a pulse that sounds more like a drum and you can't hear anything but your own intrusive thoughts and you want to go home. To a skin that doesn't feel like a strangers and to a heartbeat that doesn't sound like his or hers or theirs and you can't, you can't, you can't just simply 'Go Home.'

I want to remember your laugh
And the way you look when you walk away
I want to turn back the hands of time
In hopes that you choose to stay
I want to know how you're feeling
But I know that's not fair
I want you to hold my hand
Although I shouldn't care
I want you to see the clouds
The way I see them
But I know this can't be so
For I'm the flower, you're the stem

stars don't struggle hard to seek for notice,
they already shine enough to be noticed..
                  even by the blind!
you don't need to be on TV before being recognized as a "star".
your beautiful heart already makes you one!

i am afraid
that my bones will rust
before these buildings do

i am afraid
that my soul will fade
before this ink does

i am afraid
that i will lose my tongue
before the world loses its flavour

i am afraid
you will (not) be there
when the bullet strikes

Trying to write after so long...
I can't make any good rhymes
Just cat, hat, mat, bat...
It's even harder to write relevant to the times,

I'll try some this and try some that
I might try too hard and fall flat-
On my face i mean,
Trying to write a poem that talks about me,

Evolve and develop my artistic ways
Trying not to get caught in the drug inspired haze,
I actually think i'm a little sub-par,
And that nothing i do will ever take me far,

But here's this poem,
Or rather my story,
About a guy that wasn't that great,
But yet still aims for glory.

I could sit here and eat one thousand strawberries but I'd never find one that is as sweet as your lips