I call myself a poet

I'm here sitting

alone,

the smell of coffee runs through

my veins,

some music i probably will forget

in a few years arguing with

the thought of you,

But I'm here,

I'm here,

writing about what's happening

pretty boring huh?

i call myself a poet

but i can't use high metaphors,

i call myself a poet

but i can't describe fully

how you make me feel

i call myself a poet

but what am i?

I'm just a kid

scared of life

finding new ways to cope

searching for someone to love,

desperate,

not holding unto my dreams

how can i choose with my mind

what's right for the heart to choose.

and you see?

don't you see?

don't worry i can't either

i can't see how great i am

i can't see how other people see me

i wish i could.

i want to believe this was a dream

or

a nightmare at that.

But at last.

I'm here wishing that in another life

i could be with you,

or

maybe in other deaths,

i crave your touch,

i crave you..

with coffee waking up my senses

like a kid in summer waking up early

to go play with his friends.

i wish things were different,

so i wouldn't have to wish.

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