my brain is dead.
i cant think straight
my head is blank.
i cant do stuff.

i am an idiot sometimes.
what have i done?
why did i eat that
gross almond joy?

facepalm.

the poem is ours.
ours to write.
it is mine to keep.
mine to treat.

the poem is like my child.
dont want to let them go.
i wright them and love them.
and i want them to grow.

when asked why i wrote them
im not always sure.
its made from emotion
from my ever turning soul.

but i love my poem
no mater my heart.
my pen is on paper.
geting ready to start.

i am wearing the same thing two days in a row
why do you care? its cute though.
i like this shirt and jeans a lot.
i wish to wear them before they get washed.

have you ever been bored?
and just look at the sky?
have you ever been bored?
and asked yourself why?

have you ever beed bored?
and should you ever even try?
have you ever been bored?
and were to tired to cry?

have you ever been bored?
and done something weird?
have you ever been bored?
and try to grow a beard?

if you've ever been bored,
you know its a pain.
if youve ever been bored
you know it comes from the brain.

i've been bored,
how about you?
cuz if you've been bored.
i have too.

have you seen the dark of night?
the shadows that lurk closer?
the eyes that follow your every move?
the cold dread in the air?

have you seen the flower bloom?
it withers until it is black as black.
it releases the spirit.
it haunts you forever and ever.

have you seen the glowing eyes?
they are in the dark.
they are in the shadows.
they are everywhere you look.
they make you afraid.

have you seen the shadow woman?
i lost her.