*******, you stupid *****,
you took my heart, and threw it in a ditch.
You didn't care as you said you loved me,
as it shows in the way in which you got up to flee.
Running like a coward; no thought of repercussions,
only thinking of yourself; avoiding all discussions.
So as you go off and you **** everything that will move,
torturing yourself, thinking you have something to prove.
But you don't, and that is where went off-key with this song,
and with each different guy you lose a brand new thong,
because you believe *** is love and that is where you are wrong.

For I can find a ***** in fifth street,
and **** her until she forgets her name,
but doing so is not any feat,
as she has seen millions of men as they came.
Do you think she loves each man who throws her a bone?
Do you think she cares for his heartfelt confessions?
or do you not recognize that she is living her life alone.
These are business sessions; as she is the object that is sold at the concessions.
So respect yourself and learn what love is, as you will soon find, it is more than being just his.
For love is what will set you free,
and the only thing to make you consistently happy,
and you can love and loss and again learn to love,
and your broken wings will help you fly above,
and sooner or later, when push comes to shove,
you will learn, that *** isn't love.

I am looking off my balcony down into the street,
the occasional passerby looks up and meets my gaze,
only to drop it down to his feet,
as my own stays.
I begin to think of where he is headed,
to what lover he will meet,
perhaps he is already wedded,
but going off to cheat.
Possibly the man just committed a crime,
of ****** or ****,
while hes running from time.

I think of him again,
the next day on the road,
thinking of the worst that I can,
until I slowed.
I looked above me,
and saw a man looking down with blame,
I knew what he could see,
as I had seen the same.

Granting me one kiss,
places me in an eternal bliss,
reviving me like a flower in sunlight,
as it prepares me for my plight.
Life's plight which I face everyday,
as forces attempt to keep me at bay,
but the thought of you within my arms,
leads me to believe in life's charms.

But describing a kiss does not give you credit,
for what you have done to my soul,
this feeling is not something you can edit,
and without it my heart takes a toll.
And yet I cannot describe how I feel,
it is so much more than even-keel,
let me tell you my heart you did steal,
but on my end,
it is a pretty good deal.

I love sadness like I hate my poetry; as they both equate to only drawn out pain.

For my poetry is not like the art which I have grown accustomed to; nor is sadness similar to its depiction in media.
While writing can relinquish my heart into incoherent sentences, omitting me from pent up thought.
Yet, sadness fills me with pain,
allowing me to appreciate my emotional chain.
Teaching me how love and lust can create a chaos so spectacular,
while recognizing my poetry may not be very vernacular,

But that is okay,
because I don't really give a ****.

When I look back on what I used to be,
how I used to see,
and when you were with me.
I get a confused nostalgic feeling,
of when we were together,
and I realize why I am still healing,
after the stormy weather.
I recall how I saw you in such bright light,
how I thought of you as downright stunning,
despite every word turning to a fight,
which put me on the road to running.
The mind is a fickle thing,
how it conceives pain to be love,
it overlooks every sting,
as a good sign from above.
As always, after the initial shot,
the shot which fills your head with life,
wears off as things get hot,
as I was stabbed with that searing knife.
For I was not expecting a shank,
right in your gut, or heart, or wherever,
but as you realize, your heart sank,
as you watch the ties sever.
Luckily, the mind is strong,
and with the help of love,
I will go on.

So here I am caught between acceptance and denial,
so tell me god, where did you put my file?
Am I the man who goes without a plan,
to find himself becoming a fan?
Or will I lead my life with questions unanswered,
as I attempt to decipher your hansard.
For I do not understand your politics,
as you are a power so high above me,
for your meaning I cannot often see,
so how am I supposed to decide where to be?

My dear, my love, my heart,
the thought of where you are tears me apart,
that when my thoughts go out to you,
they only die in that deep ocean blue.
So I build a ship which can fight the treacherous sea,
one which can withstand the crashing of the waves,
and with this ship we will be free,
and no longer held as one of love's slaves.

Why must I sell myself
for your approval,
when I'm loved by so many
or so I'm told.
Why must I pretend
to care for your woes,
when I have so many
or so i tell myself.
Why must I love
when I am not in love,
I have so many to love
but nobody who loves me.

I hope you don't mind,
that I don't think of you as often.
Everyone else does, but I can't.
I didn't really meet you, because I don't remember.
But the things I do remember I like.
So just know I do love you,
Just, more people we know love you more.
I love you and I wish to have known you more.

My hands are wrapped around your throat,
gripping tightly as I squeeze the life from you,
with your eyes fixated upon my chest,
where my heart used to be.
Your frequent gasps struggle to keep you afloat,
as you change to the most beautiful shade of blue,
I always found this to be you at your best,
when you are down to your knees.

Don't resist and don't fight,
for only I can remove my hands from your neck,
to peel them away would be a burden,
when it is so much easier to just let you die.

I had left you long ago,
in mind, body and soul.
but you push back to have me,
at the expense of who you want to be.
You talk about change and being who I want,
but is that really love, when what I want is just a haunt?
What kind of lover would I be,
if I were to restrain the one I am meant to love.
I believe your priorities are askew,
you do not want to be free,
if you are willing to change without a shove,
so please tell me,
how am I meant to love you?

Looking back on when I died,
and the things which I would hide,
I don't think that anyone cried,
on the day that I died.
The moment before my life ended,
I did not look back on my life,
as there are so many that I had offended,
as my decisions caused strife.
I cared for myself with only selfish desire,
pushing my family and friends to leave,
with my habit as a compulsory liar,
coupled with my drive to deceive.
With no one in my life to love,
leading me to live in a tomb,
hoping to be saved by someone above,
as I die here alone in this room.

I didn't learn much from her,
except what not to love, and to love travel.
It's too bad she wasn't worth the trip.