Ever thought your inside a simulation
that your reality is constantly changing
Your narrative written for  a certain purpose
Your heartbreaks
the pains youve  endured in the name of life
Was nothing but a programmed reality

Ever thought of the people you've crushed while climbing up
Because of that pain you caused her
She went and cried in that office corner
But he came and offered, sympathy, empathy
Whatever she needed
And her love story begun because of your crush

Ever thought the misery you keep experiencing is your own doing
that your on the verge of damnation cause you want to
Because the puzzling emotions are only here
Cause you want them to be here
Holding onto illusive memory
that once was, but isn't anymore

Ever thought of visiting Berlin, I think we all love Berlin
Or maybe the pyramids of Egypt
What about Paris, the food and the warm friendly folks
Can't forget Abraham Lincoln, we all have a little bit of linc in us
Brazil and samba dance, that, I wouldn't miss

Ever thought of writing a poem about writing a poem
Spilling your gut but in an eccentric way
Puzzling thoughts about everything
like this poem ever thought it'll ever exist
if it's even  a poem

Can you really label it as self harm
           If it saves you daily
                     From a detached
                                      Senseless
                ­                              Dazed
                                                   Abyss.

Normal is you.
Normal is me.
Normal is everybody.
Normal
spreads
over
the
entire
planet.
Normal is everything.

i want my poems to have teeth.  
i want my words to cut,
to maim, to bleed.
with verses, i will raze
empires. with stanzas,
i will turn thrones to dust.
with nothing but a bit
of silver on my tongue,
i will take the life of god.

i’ll ply that same *****
like honey, taste the sweet
nothings dripping
between knocking knees.
quake and quiver for me,
let me slip, furtive
as nightshade
to sate your curiosity.

feel the weight of veracity
in these fingers patiently
transcribing forgotten melodies,
compressing ivory keys
to sing of all that was lost
and what was gained
from the process.

He loves me, he loves me not
We're meant to be, or so I thought
My heart is broken, the pain is real
I long for peace, from all I feel

I fake a smile, so no one knows
I mimic strength, lest weakness shows
I refuse surrender, I stand and fight
I must succeed, and so I write

The ink it flows, pours from my pen
It heals my heart, and I can breathe again

Minutes into hours, hours into days
The love I held so tightly, starts to fade away
The pain begins to lessen, the tears no longer fall
Seemed misery was forever but it's not that way at all

Those nights you haunt my dreams
Are now few and far between
When memories overtake me, I know I'll be alright
I know now what to do....and so I write

The ink it flows, pours from my pen
It heals my heart and I can breathe again
Yes, I can breathe again.

As you enter into those moments
when your trials oppress you
and you slowly feel the life
being drawn from your bones.
Remember,
that even the trees are meant to enter into seasons
where they lose their leaves and stand defenseless
from the harsh winter winds.

But never forget
that there will always come a time
when they'll finally catch their breath,
as the still spring air hugs them,
and begin their journey of growing into
a taller, more confident kind of presence
with deepened roots and a flourishing canopy
that's ready to waltz with the wind.