writing in blood is easy,
writing in tears is necessary,
but writing in smiles
is impossible,
it is taking a pen and closing your eyes
and drawing soft lines and shapes
and missing words to describe the inside
a happy poet is recognized
by an empty paper

There's no time, there's me.
My existence is fleeting and presence inconspicuous,
My absence is fading and effect, almost over.
People who function according to time, scare me.
People who function according to me, don't exist.
I'm invisible, yet inevitable to them.
If that's not pretence then what is?

I've cracked codes
Upon many men
But yours was the hardest riddle
Probably an unsolvable riddle
You wouldn't let me into your heart
You were a locked door
I had to give up on you
You gave me sorrow
But then again
Sometimes
Love will bring you pain

Your eyes are still the same grey-blue
In every way you are still you.
Yet your smile’s not warm, your voice not soft
You’re not sending, my heart aloft.
"I love you, I always will"
Yet looking at you, my heart lies still.

I guess we truly, weren’t meant to be,
Since there nothing between you and me.
Not kindness, nor friendship, nor even lust,
I was right, and all is dust.

I realized something

No matter how many times

I try to fix everything

no matter how many times

I try to change who i am

monsters dont get happy endings