Your style and grace illuminate this place,
When you crack a smile on your face.
But your eyes conceal a world full of lies,
That was created by all the other guys.

I'm not depressed, I'm just uninspired by all the rest,
Whose eyes seem to fixate entirely on your chest.
And after a while, it'll go out of style.
But you'll hide your denial with a crooked smile.

Its insane to know they have nothing to gain,
By attempting to get inside of your brain.
But I'm not the same, and I know its a shame,
But there's no one to blame for this silly little game.

So give me a chance, more than just a glance,
My intentions are greater than to get in your pants.
Because more than your bed, I want in your head.
To prove that romance is anything but dead.

When I was young, what I feared the most,
Were the monsters under my bed.
But when I grew up, I began to host,
Those monsters in my head.

As time went on, I began to find
Those monsters became my friends.
Battles ensued inside my mind
Just simple means to the ends.

Fear, doubt, and self loathing reigned,
As the three wise men inside.
Under their control, my confidence waned
And forced self respect to hide.

These monsters continue to reign supreme.
And refuse to let me be sane.
The answer differs from nightmare to dream,
Victory, or a bullet to the brain.

What are your demons that keep you awake?
The smile on your face that you grimly fake.
The howling call of 3 AM will beckon.
Claiming your sanity, despite what you reckon.

Do your demons lie in the reflection of the mirror?
The consumation of your trials and fear.
That no matter the reason, it's clear in your eyes.
That the mirror will only conjure your lies.

Perhaps your demons dwell inside of your head.
Emerging as thoughts as you lie in bed.
Despite your reassurance, it's easy to see.
Your ego can't accept what you turned out to be.

So lie to yourself, keep saying you're fine.
And keep walking your carefully scripted line.
But the demons know all, and will tear you apart.
Because yours reside in the center of your heart.

Here is a ******* poem.
I hope to God it rhymes.
It better be for a pretty girl,
Like I’ve done a million times.

A shameless poem to lure her in.
A song and dance to thee.
She took the bait and loves me now,
For a daily, nominal fee.

She rips out my heart,
Turns me bitter and loathsome.
I say to you now in a defiant tone:
Here is my ******* poem!