One by one death takes its toll. In the worst times, death creeps in like a mouse finding its food. You try and prepare, and you,you think you're ready, but one by one death takes its toll.

I see you through those bar windows, I feel the cold cuffs around my wrists, I feel the black stick hit me every time I watch you get arrested. You said we were family but I've never had family rat me out over bail. You said you were my ride for life but now you have a flat tire and in walking home tonight. I'm no mechanic, but I do know that you're totaled. Have fun in the okay pen, I'm going home.bro. See you on the other side.

My words are tainted with the bitter taste of whiskey. My hands tremble in the presence of lies and abuse. I no longer sleep and I no longer eat. I am rested in death and filled with bad thoughts and inner demons. I can only suppress them with more alcohol and the slow burning cancer stick. I no longer am a poet but a drunken teen with no future.

Her body is my home. Sweet and warm. I can smell the beautiful fragrance of her perfume, and I can hear her soothing voice echo in my ears. Her vibrant smile reflecting off my thick glasses. She laughs at my corks and holds my heart. Her soft hands skim the surface of my cheeks and her personality makes me tremble to my weak knees. My goosebumps couldn't have come at a better time. I'm glad SHE is mine.

My heart is cold this is true, but it's not as cold as when you let go of it before giving it back. Not as cold as when you steeped it in what I thought was "love" and then peel back the plastic casing with a joking laugh. My heart is cold because you left it with no warmth. It's cold because I was left in the dark with no light and two options. My heart may be cold but it will never be as cold as the blade that ran through me for the last time. You can say it was suicide but it was never the same, because I've always felt dead around you, And I'm still apologizing for getting my cold hearted blood on your knife. Excuse me for my ignorance. I promise there won't be a next time.

I am no king. I am merely a shadow left in the dust from those who are burned from the flames of hate and poverty. I am no king. I have no jewels, I have no voice, I do not have a guard to defend me from the man who truly does have power. I feel pain and live a hell satan couldn't create. I am no king, so don't make me out to be one princess.

I thought you were done...

The dark consumes me like the cold covers the night, the tears wash my blood as my blade only deepens the wound. The depression acts as a blanket when I need warmth. Suicide becomes a thought when I see no hope. My blade becomes a must to my problems. My belt becomes a nuce for my throat. My life becomes hell that I call home. Pain becomes the life I choose to live. The only thing keeping me alive is a friend. A very special friend that shows me pain identical to mine. So I choose to live in silence knowing others can feel my pain. I choose to live with her and one day we bwill show each others scars.... One day

My hands tremble like an earthquake, my breath freezes in my own sorrow, my head spins like a merry-go-round. Some find it fun to ride and some fine it bitter and nasty. My feet can't even fit themselves so how can I fit anyone else's? I got rags on my back and a smile on my face but no one can tell the difference. I'm stuck in a hole with a rope and a blade so which one will I choose? I'm not smart enough to choose the rope because I guess I'm not bright,. It could be because my life has been in the dark and its what I'm used too, or it could be because my mind is tainted from the hell my parents have left me. I'm just waiting for it to freeze over like the cold hearted souls it affects.

You have become the monster under my bedsheets
and the creature that keeps me awake at night.
The one who reminds me I am no longer worthy-
not even a response leaves your lips as to why.
You make it seem like these hands
that have been holding you up for so long
are only just holding you back.
I want to feel like the sun-
not the candle you blow out
when the wax becomes unbalanced
or the room begins to smell nice again.
I want to feel like my presence in your world
means more than just nice words
and late nights of me by your bedside.
I need to know this isn't just a game for you-
that these feet and these eggshell punctured soles
have walked all this way to mean something to you.
I want to know I mean something to you.
But as of late I just feel like an empty box
patiently awaiting to filled with something special
but you just use it to prop your feet up.
Look outside the box-
see that I have been standing here heart in hand
for god only knows how long
and remember to dance with me.
If the sunlight isn't enough for you-
live inside your shade
become accustomed to darkness.
Just remember-
turn the lights off when you go.