the scars that you see
they were all made by me
and the tears have turned red
with the blood that i've shed
people think i'm lost to the madness
but really, I'm just cloaked in sadness
i could use a rope or i could use a knife
looking back on my whole life
i see the pain and i see the hurt
i feel my heart is about to burst
the blood will flow
why can't they see
that all my life
i've been afraid of
...
me

If I hadn't met you I'd be dead
I told you I was living for you
And you left

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

i like watching sunsets
but id rather share them with you
i like all my playlist
and now my songs remind me of you
i like being alone
but i’d rather be alone with you

A friend asked me
how to be a writer.
I wanted to say,
lock yourself in a room,
scream until you have
a poem and no voice.
Open your veins and bleed
until you know that your bones
are pure words and sorrow.
Act as if you slit your own throat
and all you can bleed
are your own regrets
and all of the darkness
you boxed up for inspiration.
Write your mom a letter,
tell her you're leaving
and you won't be back for awhile
Because being a writer is traveling
through all seven layers of Hell
and denying anything is wrong.
Forget loving yourself
when all you have is a pen and paper
fused to your wrist
and Jesus is tapping at your skull
saying turn back now.
Warn the neighbors that if they smell burning
It's just your soul
clawing at the front door trying to get in.
Learn how to be alone.
Learn how to lose everything you have
in order to feel release,
learn how to only feel deceased
from now on.
A friend asked me
how to be a writer.
All I said was
don't