Her eyes tell so many
Unknown stories.
I wonder what she dreams of,
Her eyes speak to me.

n.n

I’ll drown myself at sea,
All I needed was a reason.
I’ve been hurting for years,
My heart is filled with agony.

Maybe in this damaged body
There is still hope somewhere.
How deep does the ocean go?
I cannot rest my eyes at night.

Why does every decent lover,
Only taste sadness within me.
Deliberately I’m disappearing,
No one will know when I reach

The end of the ocean since,
We don’t know how far it goes.  

n.n

There are things people want from me but can you not see that some things cannot be. I just want to be me, I write poems decently fast. But its so hard to spit bars. I dont want fame or glory, but with these hands I'll tame the expressions within me. Read my words imagine my world, but never see me in it. I'll share a new point of view, but only the open minded few can understand the work of hand, pen and paper. Is it a talent to write such raw feelings, only you, the being reading this can judge. Judge my words, my flaws and my ideals. Do I hit you deep in the feels? Do you relate? Is this fate? Maybe you and I are looking for our inner selves. It feels like digging through a book shelf. But as we age we find our greatest collection of stories and just as many worries. A pile of imperfections but there are still perfect moments.
-SS