Fury inside of me, violently stroking a pen through false dichotomies of villain and prodigy,
Where class struggles and geography were born to condone these widening,
Of differences that are perceived through a lens like anthropology,
Looking inwards for a piece of psychology,
To make sensible the sense of war you feel the need to throttle me,
Like a bottleneck your choking on your own hypocrisy,
Check your bags at the door before you try to lie to me,
A quiet rage of poetically dividing,
Your point of view and fake news while I exponentially feel like retiring,
My bad attitude and obligatory use of admiring,
Because the algorithm created feels as dated as a psychosis that is now expiring,
Waking up now feeling like saying pick up the mirror because the microscope won’t buy you anything,
Except a nervous apprehension for information from anyone who’s hiring,
A battle of thought provoked a new wave of gospel which won’t bow or take a holiday,
I can’t go back to the hospital or who I was, I’m tired of banging my head on the wall today.

Transgressions rose like a raging tide,
The guilt overflowed from the same cup of pride,
An apology is warranted, as certain as victimization leading to my demise,
The reasons of shame excluded for lunacy is as mystic as the moon who brought the waters in stride,
Accountability from me does not warrant forgiveness, healing or wholeness inside,
Ignorant was I who was not challenged, instead denoted those as hypocrites who I believed were spies,
And so I will take the title of abuser freely admitting I have failed on my side,
A losing battle on my part, as presumptuous and inauspicious as holding the sea confined,
I say sorry to those who have faced the brunt of my ego child-like mind,
Which is possible to be each person I’ve encountered in at least one point in time,
I don’t look for forgiveness, I am here to show I can see the many ways I haven’t been capable through hurting, manipulation, and lies

Your tears are my aches,
Your laugh is my best friend,
Your smile is my infatuation,
Your soul is my safe haven

There was a boy in a well,
He climbed down and didn’t tell;
When he tried getting out he fell,
It grew darker as his thoughts started to dwell,
“It is my own doing that I live in this hell,
But I would trade anything I could sell,
To see, hear and be the person I was, and remember the sound of mental freedom’s bell,”

There was a girl in a box,
Whose thoughts sometimes got lost,
They would speak to her when she would talk,
They followed her when she would walk,
They would shout at her words that mocked,
It reminded her of what it cost,
To remain sealed, like the mechanism of a lock,

The cosmic light shined bright during that one daylight,
The fear of the dark and the silence shook them with fright,
They met on a dismal day that suddenly became a delight,
But the monster of the well came out at night,
The lock became impenetrable, always shut tight,
The well and the box became reasons to hide,
Until one said I’m sorry and the other cried,
“We are different but the same” and they held on to each other with all their might

Big boys don’t cry, big boys are brave,
I wrestled my pride, I choked at your grave,
You were sentient, a being once known,
Now a cadaver with no mention, the reason for why you hold,
I grappled with complexities of destinies and fate grown cold,
Your lifeless limp organs made no sense to me, hence to forever be reminded by dates of old,
I grew up and starved for the attention of myself again,
When fixated on the larva of lessons books on shelves couldn’t tend,
I sought clarity within, only an ounce of scarcity in sanity,
But it became aware to me an ounce can lead to merrily seek vanity,
I stood close enough to say goodbye while the cat moved in the room with its wandering eyes,
I pulled her and I away should lies about how trapped my mood would be could be seen as laundering sympathy from demise,
I was you’re friend I thought, you knew me so well,
You’re now a poem I send that never reaches the end like a distant longing farewell,
This is the note I wrote when I was 19 years old,
With a 10 year perspective of another teen boy I wish I could have told,
I love you I’m here, you are never alone.

Today I thought of a wish,
If I could place it on a kiss,
I’d go to you and touch your lips,
To make your heart’s desire and all of this,
Come true to life so you could live in bliss,
And you’d never wonder what you missed.

I looked in the mirror and didn’t like what I saw,
The mirror shattered now holding space for an empty wall,
I hated the tree that would shed leaves in the fall,
When it was cut down there was no shade from the essence that once stood tall,
I cried when I was lonely that I couldn’t be loved,
She didn’t leave my side even when my suspicions shoved,
I aches that it hurt to be so attached,
But when nothing was there it felt like writing poems with math,
When he was there I compared us obsessively,
When he died I could only remember the love he had given me,
I tried to starve to be closer to God,
I cried and whimpered when death loomed like a newspaper over a dog,
When dying was near I chose to live,
When mania is exploding the aftermath and repercussion do life give,
Responsibility of being composed,
Composing responsibilities to feel better about getting old,
Bitter and sweet on the same tongue I taste,
Biting until bleeding making my senses a waste,
The decisions of the heart and the mind come from the same place,
To be and to bleed are bound by a common space,
The wall is empty,
The tree is gone,
His memories are lonely,
She deserved to move on,
Life and death are a balance on a curve,
Responsibility and composure,
With contentment I have heard,
Will forever foster and breed closure,
To live is to learn.