My passion is clear,

I want to be a writer.

My poetry is un-rhythmic,

As it rarely flows the way it should.

I read other’s work and they have such talent

Nervous I won’t make it,

I struggle to do the best I can

How did this happen?

We used to be so close,

Now were on the verge of the end.

You feel more like a ghost,

Than the girl you used to be.

We are the same person,

But too much of a good thing

Is just that, too much

Its hard to say goodbye,

But the timing is all off.

This may not be the end,

But were doing this all wrong

Happiness is a feeling

Sacred to all

To truly be happy

You must love yourself

To love yourself

The story begins in the heart

It moves to the brain

The decisions we make,

When they are good

They help our love, keep us sane

They save our souls

Time will continue long after I’m gone

It will remain long after anyone reading this

It keeps us on track for the day,

As well as measures the age of a person

It is one of the last remaining mysteries

That plague the earth, will we ever know?

Or is this just a useless search

Like when you lose the remote and can’t find it

No matter how hard you look,

Maybe it will be like when you’ re about to quit,

Just to find the answer under your ****

We can only hope

The words of a woman,

The loss of a mother.

Brought together by music.

Do you believe in ghosts?

Because she does now,

After that fateful dance,

And five little words,

“I Love You My Baby”

Time moves on, slowly creeping,

The days go by, one by one.

He spends his days sleeping,

Awake in the night, to be alone.

The words flow from his pen,

Like a mighty river running.

He's not used to the attention.

Those people who read his writing.

They give him praise,

He's used to pity.

Everything happens for a reason,

Or so they seem to say.

I love this type of season,

You come around to stay.



The summer sun is rising,

As I try to fall asleep.

I have trouble in deciding,

I think I’m falling in too deep.



The mad world frightens me,

From the struggle and strife.

Now I think you’re the key,

To my boring, normal life.



Everything happens for a reason,

That’s why I love this season.

This time of year you always stay,

Making all my problems go away.

The words on the page,

From the awkward man-boy,

Flow so freely form the pen.

They speak of pain, and love.

They speak of life, and loss.

He does it to be free,

Free from the stress of life,

Free from the times of hurt.

Only a boy and a book,

The pen flows freely,

As the man-boy opens up.

The taste of her lips

The smell of her hair

Stuck to him, he smiled

The thought of her face

Made him want to run for joy

The energy she gave him

Helped him get through

Even the toughest times

The soldier marches to war

Did he want to go?

Did he have a choice?

The young man may not survive the day

But he marches onto battle everyday

These are not the battles of the past

With lines of troops, or clear boundaries

This is modern warfare, urban warfare

The enemy can be right next to you

Invisible bombs change lives in seconds

These men are brave, and won’t be the same

Happy people all around

Smiling faces and laughter

But inside there is silence

Only the fear of falling after

The love they felt so vibrant

Thoughts of a future so bright

Until the day he fell silent

Now all he feels is fright

That his sun is gone

To be alone is not alright

He longs for his muse