Nostalgia whispers softly into my ear
What a *******.
Thinking it can just control me with my own false memories ?

Dear, nostalgia
    Did you want me to beg?
Did you want me to plead?
   For those memories
That aren't even real.

I remember him loving me.
I remember being touched.
I remember looking into his eyes .
I remember feeling like I was enough.

These are false memories
They aren't really.
Please nostalgia give me a break.
These are things I do not wish to feel.

I'm not a poet, I am simply a lost cause.
I am not a poet, I am the death that comes with life.
I am not a poet, I am lost motivation.
I am not a poet, I am the sadness that brings depression.
I am not a poet, I am me and that's terrible enough.

I'm back with because I have a little more motivation since I'm feeling extra suicidal so cool , right? ... Pain is art... Art is pain..

My life may be dull
But it sure is dull.


There's nothing else to it.
I'm bored and I want to die.

As i lay these flowers
On my death bed
I go over the lines
I have not yet read
Heaven or hell
Is where I shall go
And these last few days
Many do not know
I've been planning death
my death has been planned
My light will soon  fade
As blood drip down my hand
I'm sorry to say
That I must leave
Do not beg
And  please do not plead
For my return
Because we all know
Today is the day
That I must go.

I have got a question.
How do you tell someone you love them.
And not mean a single word of it?

How is that even possible.
If I did that.
I'd have burning hate for myself.
Because right then.
You just injected poison into someone's heart.



But the real question is.
Why.

Is it too hard for you to face me?
And tell me  that you in fact do not have passion in your heart devoted to me?
Because it would have spared me the scars and ****** wrists?

What can you expect?
Poetry comes from the heart.
And the heart is vulnerable.

We live in a world of lost souls and unfulfilled dreams.
Poetry just helps us stay here physically
Because we cant always be here mentally, emotionally,or spiritually.
Poetry is the reason i'm still alive.