I used to have it all.

My throne that I sat high upon was my whole world.

I ruled my golden kingdom with such extravagance unseen by most living beings.

I ruled with my bloodline,

So close.
So strong.
Everlasting.

And one day, it was all taken from me.
Everything I had, gone.

I was defeated,
Despaired.
And left for dead.

And now, someone else sits fixated on my throne.

He wears my crown that I worked so hard to craft.

My crown I crafted from blood, sweat, tears, and pain.

To me, it's the crown jewel.
To him, it's nothing more than a dunce cap.

He is a nothing king trying to be everything I was.

But he needs to realize,

Thrones were only ever built for one.

"You can't fix all your sad and pathetic problems by writing another ****** poem."

Well, I can try.

Sometimes, you gotta let some ships just sail away.

Because eventually, you'll either learn to swim.

Or that ship will disappear beyond the horizon.

Either way, you won't be on-board.

And somehow, you've got to be ok with that.

I'm crazy for you.

And that's why I'm writing another poem.

Another canvas splattered with my gushy, mushy emotions.

Another fairytale romance covered in my blood, sweat, and tears.

I'm crafting a story where you're crazy for me too.

Where we can be together.

And I'm sitting here feeling my heartbeat race everytime I read your name.

And my knees go weak when I see your face.

And my eyes and ears widen when I hear your name.

I'm crazy for you.

And you'd probably call me crazy, or sweet, or generous, or a great guy, or a loser, or pathetic,

But as long as your calling, I'll keep answering.

So I hope you like this poem.
This canvas of my unstable emotions.
This fairytale romance drenched with my blood that I bleed from my fight.
The sweat that I pour from my fight.
And the tears that fall because of my fight.

I just hope you like this.
And I hope you like me, too.

But it's alright if you're not crazy about me the way I am about you.

But ****, if you were,

That'd be crazy.

It's just not fair.

And it's really ******* sad,

What you're doing to me.

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

No caring for me, no cradling me, no supporting me.

But why?

Is it because I'm not good enough?
Not cool enough?
Not good looking enough?
Not confident enough?

Oh, of course it is.

the caterpillar can't comprehend the life of a butterfly x