I felt punch drunk.
Then i hit the floor.
However, i was too numb.
To feel the pain.
To feel the sting.
So it never hurt,
but the scars remained.

I'm breaking
And I crumble
I'm falling
And I fumble
I'm grieving
With this sorrow
I'm losing
These memories we made
I'm hoping
Even if nobody hears
I'm crying
But no one sees my tears
I'm screaming
But no one hears me
I'm begging
Without a sign of forgiveness
I'm breaking
I need someone to understand
I'm fading
Some one please help me

But don't worry,
**I'm fine.....

If you believe in the spiritual power of story-telling, then what more the power of the Gospel?* - **XL

Who is this poet?

Is he faithful to his poetry
as good as pretends to be
or his heart is ever on the darkside
nowhere near of what he writes.

Who is this poet?

Is his hat real or fake
he’s weak and easily breaks
he aims only to teach
never follows all that he preach.

Who is this poet?

Is he really that sweet
joyous and good as his wit
does he expose truly his heart
or the real he hides behind his art.

Who is this poet?

Does he have in him
all his painted dream
the lover’s happiness
he does profess.

Who is this poet?

Is at heart he's that pure
what with words he conjures
or all them are just his arty wile
he's merely spinning tales in style.