Invidious, invective, violent, and vicious

I say that I understand,

but you ignore me when I feel like flaying myself,

and I want to dig my teeth beneath your skin and expose the red threaded muscle beneath,

energy screaming against the sides of my brain.

to me,
you are
an art

                              to you,
                              I was
                              a tragedy

He writes poetry
But no one knows

He writes poetry
He writes about love
And loss

He writes about smiles
And frowns

He writes about sorrow
And forgotten towns

He writes about how lost he gets
Caught up in his own mind

He writes poetry to
And about others

But no one knows

Know one knows the depth of his soul
Because they all choose to see the exterior
And that exterior screams

Preppy
And preppy
Don't have souls

Or so they thought
Until the day he was consumed
By his own poetry

enlightenment in
perceiving one's existence
comes with suffering
of knowing one's nothingness—
reason to stop existing

white silver bullets
barrage the trees and buildings
in chaotic sound
despite our defense constructs
everything falls to the ground