The ability to write poetry is the ability to understand life
To know it's not always about being the best
That it's not always about who can do what
Poetry is emotion
It is the silent words that lurk in our minds
It is our unsaid weaknesses exploited to their full potential
Which then makes it our strengths
It is the bridge that connects us to the mortal world
It is the proof that we are human
That we can cry
That we can laugh
That we can have remorse...
To us poet it is so much then just words on a piece of paper
It is our heart and our pride
As poets we all have our reasons why we write
Because we all come from our different backgrounds
Some of us have lost sight of the light
Other bath in it
There are even some who sit upon the border because they can't make up their mind
But as poets we all have one thing in common
We write because we are not immortal
We write because poetry is our life
We write because  poetry is our hope
And if we didn't have it we'd all be in a different place
Most likely a place beyond darkness
Even if the reason we write is joy
What's the point of being happy if everyone else is not
So we write to share
That's what it means to be a poet

The madness, the darkness has come seeping in,
once again I am burdened with my sin,
The thoughts, they swirl in a crazed tempo,
beating against my skull with the desperate fury of a dying heart.

I am drowning under a tide of pensive dispair,
Struggling to even gasp for air,
Oh! I lament my own awareness,
my jealousy is reserved for the blind.

Surely, I must be mad!
How could I not be with such anguish I am clad,
One true question remains.
Will I fade, implode, or explode with such force as to devastate my own?

Run! My darkness is no longer a flame lazing,
but an inferno blazing,
We all have our afflictions, mine is thought.

I tell you it’s dark inside 

You say turn on a light

I say it hurts my eyes

I’ve gotten use to the dark 

I can feel my way to my heart 

And lay down on its surface

I can tiptoe my way

Around hopelessness 

Slip on a few things 

But not fall

But you’re still new to it 

You still trip on my

Newly discovered fears

Still drown in my overwhelming 

Sea of sadness 

You've gotten bruises

From slipping on my silence 

You have fallen on my weariness

And I’m sorry 
I never meant for it 

To swallow you too 

Loving you makes a difference 

But you can't fix a ****
With nothing but a twig 

You can take a horse to a spring 

But you can't make it drink 

You can love me all you want 

But I have to learn 

To love myself 

Enough to turn on the light 

I will try to ease my eyes
to the light 
But fire eventually burns out
Even candles know that

I’m sorry I’m not okay 

I wish I was

If only it were 

To be well enough 

To look into your eyes 

And not feel like I’m drowning

To be able to feel 

The trace of your hands on mine

And not wish you didn’t have to

Feel the scars 

I’m sorry I’m not okay 

I really wish I was 

If only to be able to tell you
How much I love you 

Enough to not die for you

Enough to live with you

The
scariest
place to be
is on the
          edge...

                         the precipice
                             between
        keeping it together
                    and falling
                    into
          the abyss

Knowing
      that when you fall
you
    fall
a
l
o
n
e