It's 8 o'clock in the morning
And I still thinking about the warning
That I got while I was eating
At buffet where they are seeking
Someone like a silly and to bully

And I was the perfect choice for that
As there was nothing in me but fat
And now here I am, sitting and crying
In the bathroom tearing and dying,
Of the pain that's a feeling and a dealing
With this kind of self-appealing

There they come, with a smile on their faces,
With a knife and cigarettes
Scratching and burning my skin to ashes
What do i need this kinda treatment?
Just because I got a belly and cheeks,
Makes me the one to see these freaks?

They say April is a month of rebirth, a month of healing.
What a lie. April is a *****—a wolf in sheep’s clothing—giving you just enough hope that you can stop and smell the roses, only for it to unzip its outer skin, forcing a thorn to strike you in the eye.
They say death comes in threes, but they don’t tell you that April’s showers of misfortune come tenfold, never ceasing, leaving you gasping for air.
Eventually, the storm will stop, as it always does, and I’ll be there in fields of wildflowers, soaking up the sun. After all, I’m good—just a little tired.

There's something to be said for superstition,

It never seems to let you down,

Now it's to the point,

I wont even pass my cat,

She did nothing wrong,

But her label is bad.

Slowly taken away
What at some point
Felt like would be
Impossible to live without
Maybe for the best
Although that feels like a stretch
The heat of you means so much
Gives me space between time
And love to unwind when depressed
Despite confusion at times
Over the situation of our relationship
Wouldn’t trade places for anything
That would be a great waste
So as where we were withdraws
From the places once so familiar
Which are now merely nostalgia
They still hold such importance
New beginnings extend from the ending
And brings hope for reconciliation
That would be my preferred choice
Doesn’t always work like that
Sometimes relapses occur
Making you sink amidship
Crashing against the waves
As oceanic whirlpools stir wonderment
Tides drawing painterly crestfallen essences
Which create an atmosphere of resentment
Making pirates out of fishermen
Fleeting ships firing horrific elegance
Departing for lands of exploration
Returning when tired
And making amends
Slipping into old habits
Feeling an indifference within yourself
You thought things had changed
And they have

they wrote a good poem,
they were acknowledged, approved, SEEN-
** my lonely, broke heart;
you yet have me.
ah and the other me too--
This one, that spites and spews and vitriols as lovers often
are wont to do.
ah my love,
yes, come,
CLOSE (
and no that was a whisper not
A SHOUT! (THAT WAS THOUGH!))
so close,
that -
drop, drop,
sssssssss,
the whistle
wouldnt budge
and it is time,
to find love ANEW now,
and begin
this new life of ours.

A black swan moves through silent streams,
With wings of night, it haunts the dreams.
It wears its sorrow, cloaked in dark,
A soul that drifts, lost in the arc.

But there, beside it, pure and bright,
A white swan dances in the light.
Its feathers shine, its heart is free,
A symbol of what good can be.

Two swans that glide, yet worlds apart,
One carries shadows, one a heart.
In every soul, both dark and pure,
The swans of fate forever endure.

From birth until now
How I’ve loved you,
Wonder of my soul-
The light that shines home
A universe I would build for you
As time marches on,
My days grow shorter
And vision begins to blur
Unable to see the greater beyond

But should you go before me
Know that I’ll be right behind you
It will be okay, my sweetest princess
(I don’t want you to go)

I’ve had my fill,
Saw the heights of the hills
watching stars shoot across
As I wished upon them all
And you came to be,
Miraculous and free
I knew heaven was real

So don’t waste a moment,
Looking back at what could have been
When your future is bright
And our time is running out
I’m up and over all my best days
But if I could do it over I’d replay
The very moment you were conceived
Was the very moment I came to be
I just want to make you proud
Before I go.

But should you go before me,
I’ll be right behind you
Slay any demon calling,
Until we reach singularity
Know on my death bed, darling
I don’t want you to go…

Years carry weight,
I’m drowning in sorrows of regret
And hoping the tide won’t take you
But I know, as you grow, you’ll fly the nest
Find your own in and out of our orbit
I’ll wish upon the stars that take you-
To your destined path
I hope that you’ll remember me

But should you go before me
I’ll be right beside you,
Conquer any evil, but my dear
I don’t want you to go…

Often the little kid in me asked,
How can people like this exist?
Two faced , hurtful and manipulative!
Grew up developed a hard coat,
To endure this dance with the devil .

The two pronged diabolical ways,
To see through this thick haze ,
Brazen - till the void grew bigger,
My heart once again set ablaze,
Twisted skills need no praise.

Do I play fairly with them ?
Do I twist my own ways ?
Should I really endure this pain ?
Will they not do this again?
Repeating misdeeds is their bane!

Should I even care or distance ?
Let them stay in their own pretense ,
Let their stares pass through,
The ghost of my wrath pass them,
Should I bind my lose ends in a hem?

What a waste of my time and energy,
They are but beasts from down below.
Creatures of these kind do persist,
My boredom is not their grand heist.
This exasperation should not exist !

I bow down to the force within,
Shed this coat of human existence,
Outwitted by reaction to the mundane,
I secure my stance to be sane.
Let not these thoughts bother once again!

I almost lost you twice this month,
Almost stuck a blade in my heart.

Tomorrow is March 15th,
A well-known time of bad luck.

I'll be looking over my shoulder every turn,
Be wear the ides of March.

73 drafts,
73 finished poems,
73 pieces I can't post,
73 plus instances of 502,
Bad Gateway.