My head is like a ***** that was hit to many times
You can hear a pin drop in this trouble soul of mine
And my heart is diamond, cause not even a bullet can make through
It’s ****** shield protecting it from everyone even you

Cause I’ve touched the ground more than once
My guilt has made a hole on the stone-cold floor
Nowadays my walk is more of an abstract dance
As my thoughts try to break my chained door

Still you wont ever hear me beg, I won’t ever cry
My thoughts maybe slowly making me mad
But in this society, I would rather die

Cause the immortals of these days, are the ones that fall
Not the ones who fought battles and won
But the ones that did nothing at all

A friend asked me
how to be a writer.
I wanted to say,
Set yourself free,
sing until you have
a poem and no voice.
Open your chest
and let your heart say
what your mind can't
Act as if you own the day
and all that you live
and all that you see
and all that you feel
you boxed up for inspiration.
Write your mom a letter,
and tell her that you miss her
but you'll be back someday.
Because being a writer is traveling
through a wide and dangerous and wonderful world
and coming home must wait.
Remember to love yourself
even if it's hard to do with
ideas cluttering your brain.
and Reality tapping at your skull
saying is this worth it?
Warn the neighbors that if they hear voices
It's just your soul
changing and creating.
Learn how to accept others.
Learn to let go of everything you don't need
in order to stay sane,
Learn how to grow
from your failures.
A friend asked me
how to be a writer.
All I said was
write

my Father planted
the seed, yet
I
reaped
The flower.

What kind of
Garden
shall we sow?

My Monday morning walk into the door’ll
manifest a girl who has me questioning any aforementioned morals

Watch her wiggle past,
her little figure sending ripples through the store
catching eyes with simple gestures she won’t think about

Core shaken
Mind taken just before
I can collect and reset
Keep my cool and restore
The composure I project
Refuse to let the shallow
Sections of my thoughts
Invade and settle over
Work I should be doing
to ***

I know it’s ******* to portray poetic images of depth within myself
While at the same time
I pine over the darling like a Barbie on a shelf
Because I barely said a word to her

Before in my mind I undressed and ******* her

And it’s lines like that
Flaring through to self awareness
when they hit the page
Caging what I say in hallow careless little quips about how much of myself that I’m embarrassed
That leave me ill prepared to change cuz I can’t bare it
And she’s a carrot on a stick I guess
I’ll parrot my stresses to myself and bury it
Let the sensations arising
Around the new addition dull or deplete when testing
Her personality shows she likes to eat babies or listen to future or something equally detesting.

But **** new chicks got a nice ***
Which I’m sure she’s never heard and wants to hear
From me or strangers when they see her
To watch her steer is just confusing
Like... How the hell do you stand is all I’m saying
Clearly your center of gravity
Has to be six inches further back than the average mans
But I digress again
All I wanna say is I'm not an awful person
At least I don't think.
I think I need a drink.

It withers

near a bare
tree,

under skies
filled with
gray.

It withers

with tired petals
amid dullness, and

rain.

I see it wither

here.

I see what

remains.

Poor haggard

thing

with no place to
go.

I see it wither here

without
ever seeing
it

grow.

I see the fireflies floating gracefully in the rays of the evening sun
See the webbed light-orange leaves eager to be set free by the wind
but continue to leash onto the delicate tree branches
See the fine layers of grass stand still and permeate the air with freshness
And realise that there’s more to life than grieving over you
The world is alive and divine and so am I