This world we live in,
It's not supposed to
Be that way.

Hell is supposed to come after.

Instead, we suffer through
Hell every day of our lives.

Heartbreak, lost friends, abuse.
The list goes on and on.

The very thought that
There is worse to come
Scares me out of my mind.

Is there truly another hell
Or do the "bad" people
Simply get sent back to
Earth as their punishment,
Forced to suffer life again?

That seems to be enough
Punishment to discourage
Wrongdoings.

An eternity on earth
Forced to deal with evil
People and forces all over
Again.

All this wandering
Has got me wondering,
Is this a pointless battle?

Do we all wind up in the
Same place, burning for our
Bad choices and actions?

Do we end up happy
As reward for living
In this hell on earth?

Either way I'm gonna live
Exactly how I want to.

That way,
It's worth it in the end,
No matter where this final destination
May be.

Partying is in my soul,
Ingrained from birth.
Not meant to be ignored.

My life shall be
A colorful swirl of
Photography, partying,
Living life to the fullest.

Where does life lead?
Why waste time planning
The end when you could be
Living life?

Meatloaf,
You say.
Why meatloaf?

How could a vegetarian
Possibly taste like
Meatloaf??

Promises made
For when we die.
But why meatloaf?

I scream meatloaf
To you, but
Why meatloaf?

Poetry.

One simple word,
Yet it could change your life.

That poem that hits you,
Right when you felt you couldn't be any more
Numb.

The one that shocks you back to
Life.

Maybe the sensitive side comes out.
Maybe you found a poem that
Shows a soul in distress.

Maybe you wrote that poem.
Someone else found it.
Saved you.

Who knows?

Did you ever wonder
Who it was that saved you?
Did you forget that it wasn't just you
That changed your soul?

Usernames hide identities,
So who could ever know
The real name of the soul that saved them.

I know it's happened for me.
People I can't thank enough.
For pulling me out of a blackhole,
A.K.A. Life as w know it.

"We" being those who cut.
"We" being those who smoke.
"We" being those who drink.
"we" being those lost in an
Endless. Downward. Spiral.

Because "we" see the world as it is.
A pit of problems with no bridge across.

The only bridge for the aforementioned "we" is poetry.

Writing poems in hope that someone will read it and save us.
Wondering all the while if anyone even cares.
Does the world care

Whether planned or not.

Have my words,
unspoken, but rather written,
ever saved some
Helpless soul
Wandering without a path?

Life is an endless journey,
Poetry is a shortcut,
Towards happiness galore.

Life is full of thorns.
Poetry is a beautiful field,
Full of flowers, but few thorns.

I can't say there won't be thorns,
Life has to have it's way sometimes.
But I can say I will be there for you,
Likewise with poetry.

If life gets too hard,
turn away from
The blade,
The pipe,
The bottle or can,
Take my hand,
We will make it together.

I may not be too good at voicing my thoughts,
But I mean well.
Some things cannot be said,
Even if they ought to be.

When your vase full of life flowers is drooping and wilted,
Come with me,
Find a new one.

In the end all that matters is how you spent
Hours upon hours.
Suffer,
Survive,
Thrive?

Poetry will make you bloom,
Then you can take that power and lead others.

Just never forget how you got to that place.
And never forget me and
How I taught you to listen to the words of
Souls that are never uttered.

Never forget the old you,
But don't stay that same person.
The past is the past, find your future.


Follow me.
Find poetry.
Change your mind.
Change your outlook.
Become a new, better, you.

I'm always being told how everything I do is
Too much
Or
Too little.

Too much caring
About people
Who honestly
, if asked,
Couldn't care less about me.

Too little love shown
To those who would
Have my back
No matter what.

Little mixed up mind.
Still learning what to
Too many,
Too few.

Too many fake friends.
Say they care,
Then stab you in the back.
All over hate for you.

To few friends who truly care.
Had your back,
Even when you were too busy
Ignoring them

I may not have the world figured out.
Then again, who does?
Too much to learn in a single lifetime.

What do I hope?

As cruel as it sounds,
I don't care.
You were cruel,
So I'll be mean back.

Frankly put,
I hope,
From the bottom of my heart,
That she gets pregnant.

It would serve you right.
You were so cold.
So heartless.
Such a *****.

Am I becoming you?
No.
I have a heart,
And I hope she gets pregnant.

Outcast.

I trust too much.
I love too little.
I don't fit in.
I shouldn't live this way.

None of that matters.
Let the pain flow.
Let it follow the blood.
The blood flows from me.

Scars mark my wrists.
Seeing them brings back memories;
Memories not of flowing blood,
But of the reasons behind it.

Lost love.
Used by many.
Scarring memories,
Now remembered by true scars.

They will never leave me
So I'll always be haunted.
Haunted until it all hurts too much
And the blood flows again.

Recurring memories
Forever haunt me.
I'd rather forget.
Wish they'd be

Outcast.