This is for those Who have,


Burned,
Bled,
Vomited,
Hurt,
Cried,
Died,
Lied,
Hid,
Cut,­
Pinched,
Clawed,
Punched,
Bruised,
And Hated Themselves,
Because of what other people think.

Think before you speak, Words HURT Some of us have the SCARS to PROVE IT. If you Are one of us, Know you're not alone, and you'll be okay. I know its hard, but Please... I beg you, throw the blades, pins, needles, lighters, and rubber bands away... You're loved, and like i said... you'll be okay. :)

I want to thank all of you who have read my poem "I Fell In Love With You" (POEM 99). I am truly amazed that so many of you fellow poets have found this poem to your liking, re-posted, left comments or just read.

I will do my best to read and comment on your poetry, to visit and say HI in some way over the next few days.

For a lot of you, and me as well, writing poetry is like breathing air, we would die if we didn't (not sure who said this first, don't think it was a poet, but an author), perhaps not literally, but definitely inside we would be dead. So for me your reading and all is like fresh air and I am amazed and humbled by all of you.

Thank you.
Aztec

Looking out over the forest.
  No mention of God here,
but the trees speak
   so well of themselves
           that I can touch
             and taste them.

In a darkened room
     with my solitude.
                            No talk of spirits,
   but I can almost hear
        my breath
        passing thru the walls.

I am a creature of seeking,
    but no matter how far I go,
     and no matter how well I
      understand the hills around my home,
when I lay down to sleep
    I am forever the dweller
        of a land unknown.

Rewards and scars gather up as hours collect my thoughts to gather in a lonely room.
Bladed cuts and screaming
haunt me silently
in the unmasked gloom

No skeletons in closet for demons keep me warm we often look for solace and I simply another line .  But the storms outside offer little silence and long is the night ahead.

The darkness stretches
in pale lines, etching bone in its loneliness
Tracing patterns of lightening against a dark tempest
I sit and wonder why
I sit so alone inside my head