I'm not proud of my country//
They call it free//
But it's not
  
Crime families rule the police
and government//
The honest man gets *****
and robbed by them//
The Criminal receives praise
and stardom//
The Victim(s) are forced
against their will//
And often die or ****//
Then labeled
  
Too frightened to talk
  
I'm not proud of my country//
They call it free//
But it's not

Peace of mind brings my
muse nothing but stagnation;
learn to write happy.

just thinking of you
makes my mind split in two
makes me act like a fool
makes me feel the happiness in my soul
but also feels the sadness too

Girl gives sunshine smile
A boy reacts with the moon
Galaxy flirting

His face in the mirror
was not his face.
It was clean and seemed out of place
It's mouth too wide and its nose too small
It was not his, no, not at all.

But,

the more he looked, the more he stared,
he wondered why he should care;
it's just a face made out of skin,
a face does not even begin
to define a person, that much was certain,
so he left his face,
by the bathroom curtain.

my lungs are burning up for you
and you just stand there
admiring the fireworks.

As I read your poetry
I wonder if it's true
Do the demons that help in rhyme
Really have a hold of you

And is the one you say you love
Not returning you the favor
In the poems that you pen
Is this all your life's behavior

Does your father really raise his fist
While your mother screams
As alcohol flows freely in your life
Or is it just poetry

Are you on the verge of suicide
And do you truly cut yourself
Do you feel that worthless in your life
Is what you write a cry for help

As I read your poetry
It often sets me off to wonder
Do you write about yourself
Or do you write about another

~the meaning of life is the life behind all meanings~