No one told me that at seventeen
I would risk everything for my freedom
I would have my heart shattered into pieces
I would learn to regret
I would learn to let go
I would find love in a stranger  
I would find my place  
...so what's waiting for me at eighteen?

All day I dream of space
Far off worlds pull at my thoughts
Earth on the fringes of my mind.
Foreign air chokes my lungs.

Alien brainwaves, invading
Persuading, notions that I do not belong
This poisonous world, suffocating
The light seen in dreams
Calling out across dimensions

White noise screams, broken messages
Loud pulsing, scrapes along my skull
Bleeding out into over saturated comprehension
Known truths, wither into the dust
Of old age and barried lies.

The Infinite darkness, the chill
Space comforts me, quells the flames
Blinds these tired eyes from chains
Worn heavy, by the proud fool.
Trapped in a shell, far away from home.

What happens to deleted poems?
Do they go to the same place as aborted children?
Somewhere between heaven and hell.
A purgatory perpetuated by the misery of doubting one's self.
Maybe they condense into clouds like vapor into rain,
only to eventually fall back down upon our heads again.
In the pained expression you wear on your face,
I can read nearly a thousand words unsaid.

Who can feel these drops
Who can heal this numbing pain
Can you feel how this heart stops
As tears begin to fall like rain

One drop, two drops, now three
Tear after fallen tear I will cry
Too many drops, I am too blind to see
An empty room and I wonder why

Four drops, five drops, now six
No one will see, no one will come
Broken heart that no one can fix
Too many drops for some

Looking over the cliff I can see the sea.  I feel the breeze hover close to me, as the heavy rain beats down upon me.  Down below, down below, I see an image in the water.  Who is this?  Could it be?  Could this be me?  As I leaned over to get a closer look, I see a face staring at me. I am shaken from this image.  It cannot be real or can it be?  But, I think to myself once again, could that be me?  I get enough courage to look deeper in the sea and I realize that image is still staring at me.  I turn around and walk back to the street.  I hear a voice say, “Be careful in life and what you do, because if you believe, that image just might be you.”