I never knew-

How was I to know  
you'd throw it away
day after day, yeah
it's all the same with you-
I've done all I can do
now, the rest is up to you,
so I think you're *******.
But, what else is new?
Yeah, what else is-
[Instrumental break]

And I never knew
any folks quite like you, no:
take all they can, now-
are not as they claim to be at all.
You're so full of ****.
We're so full of ****.
Yeah, I'm full of-
[Instrumental break]

Well, I never knew,
though I should have known,
the source of the blame,
yet wallows in shame,
and suffers the pain
and all the disdain, yeah;
of what has been sewn so well,
of what has been sewn so far, yeah,
of what has been-
[Instrumental break]

At least I have learned from
what I have been through-
better than you have seemed to do,
but that's all on you,
so I think you're ******, man,
so torally *******, man.
But, what else is new?
But that's nothing new.
Thats nothing-

I want to be wrong.
I hope I am wrong.
I doubt that I'm wrong.
I don't think you can or will,
but please prove me wrong.

Why is hellopoetry.com black and white? I've always wondered about this... why my colorful photographs are required to travel back in time. How does this effect the poetry in any way, shape, or form? But I understand the wisdom of this design now. And it sets a great metaphor for all of the people of the pen involved in this truly noble motion, this secret society for people with passion, talent, and troubled minds and souls. Hello Poetry is black and white not because it has to be monochromatic and modern, but because us poets fill these pages with enough inovativeness and color already with our words, ideas, thoughts, songs, senryus, ballads, heartbreaks, insecurities, that adding literal color to this website would be overwhelming. These soft undertones of gray, black, and white may be considered drab and depressing to some, but to us poets it represents timelessness. And this is probably why we are all here. Hourly, daily, weekly, monthly, or even yearly publishing poems. Because we all know we are not going to live forever, and we are so entirely insignificant in the broad scheme of things and of the universe itself, that it is a bit comforting and helpful to have this coping mechanism or soft blankie to calm our fears, that this literature we write, however insignificant it may be, is absolutley permanent. And that maybe someday it will be remembered so a small bit of us may live on. Tom Riddle knew the needs and wants of man kind before anybody else realized it. Maybe he was just trying to cope with the fact that he is insignificant. These poems are all our Horcruxes so *viveamus per camenam nostram.