I.Q's are at a parallel with expectations.

Exceptionally high at a parallel with section 8 incarcarations.

Beware of the dropouts, for they seek what lies beyond reach.

Beware because they seek wisdom far beyond what a college could teach.

Beware of the most hateful heart, for one day it'll become the most powerful love.

Beware of the addict to kick the habit to find art, as the most powerful drug.

Born from the white picket fence cementry, becoming the change always seeked in his dreams.

A Fire in his chest.

A burning soul, a phoenix that rebirths from the ashes of his words.

The Genius Of The Suburbs.

Roses are red, somewhat like my heart.

The sky is blue and the sun is gold or so I'm told.

Roses die and my heart skips beats when I think of you.

Please allow me to be so bold.

The sky is gold, and the sun is blue.

Your skin is warm with eyes that blind.

Baby I don't ever see night with you.

"Love" and "hate" are said to be the strongest words of feelings.

Oh these feelings, never imagined I would feel this again. I "love it", I "Love you".

Oh these feelings, never imagined I would feel this again. I "hate it", I "hate you".

These are said to be the strongest feelings, yet what comes prior truly envokes the most meaning.

Oh these feelings, never imagined I would feel this again. I ******* "love it", I ******* "love you".

Oh these feelings, never imagined I would feel this again. I ******* "hate it", I ******* "hate you".

******* speak to me, the word "*******" at the perfect ******* moment really ******* speaks to me.

"Love" and "hate" are said to be the strongest words of feeling.

But read this poem over again and tell me, where you can truly feel the words of my feelings.

Dear Life,

Funny is it not?

We loved eachother, just never at the same time.

Lately it's been lingering constantly on my mind, yet I still continue to walts around like I'm fine.

I Took you for granted,

so understanding I am as to why you can no longer stand it.

But "Life's a game right?"  I guess I just-

I just grew tired of the ******* hands from you I was handed.

Tired of standing alone in sorrow, of drowning in feelings.

That eight year rain shower killed me, but could've given you a sibling on a drier planet.

Like mars, life you could've had a brother on mars.

But instead you chose me,

A guy that feels way to ******* much, way to ******* deep.

So Why me?

Why should I  sleep?

So I can dream of a girl I know, who's exactly like me but doesn't like me?

Why, see? It's only been a week so why do I feel confident she's the one I need?

Why do I cry and feel hopeless seeing scripted love on a screen?

Why do I relate more, feel closer to fictional characters than the ones next to me?

Dear life,

I wrote you the key to my mind without thinking twice.

I don't ask for your sympathy, but a key for simplicity will suffice.