This isn't a poem that I could write easily.

It is but a reply to a kind girl I cherish. That I hope she never reads.

On awful days like this I think of you, though I shouldn't.
The spiteful guy who knows you betrayed him.
Should the book of life be written, I would argue it's pages to say you betrayed me.
Lo, the poison spreads.

I can't help that you are human.
That you were broken over and over again by your abusers.
And hate these arms of mine for being one of them.
Lo, the toxin wears.

I am a tired man who curses those to whom he protects.
When you smiled at me, I felt truly alive!
I have gone too long without that smile. It is kept from me and these loving eyes.

Because these eyes are killers eyes.
This heart, will rise again.
And my soul will corrupt.
The price I pay for being a big fat liar.

And the pain I feel for loving someone for whom it is impossible to love. One disgusting hopeless narcissist to another.

---------Thoughtful Strangers letter---------

If we meet, I'd like to watch the sunset with you. And call you a pathetic woman with no talent whatsoever at finding happiness. And a ***** who is so predictable, I could tell her future looking into dog **** rather than a crystal ball. That I actually wanted you to save me from the disgusting people I called family. And that unlike you, I was enlightened to understand just why I have to think through everything in front of me. I don't drink, I don't smoke and I don't do drugs like you because I don't have the luxury of serving my own purpose of self-satisfaction because this body won't let me. That you broke my heart when these, my only pair of eyes made you feel afraid when I looked at you in my most loving gaze.

Now I look into the mirror and see something disgusting that truly should not exist. So before I die, never feeling the touch of one who loves me. I hope you suffer. Just like I always knew you would and wanted you to. I hope you die ******. That horrible future I see is a lot kinder than the hell I've been confined too. Trapped like a cockroach. With a beautiful heart that poisons everything it touches. And hurts every time it remembers that he has no friends.

I can only hope it's easier not to care.

Where's the hug I've needed in the hard moments?
Only verses embrace my mental instability.
I would wish some super escape ability,
But I've lost even the power to wish...

No hope for the Bohemian...
What meaning does this phrase hold?
My lone madness has finally driven me mad,
Every line is sad, mad, bad that ever I had had, "had".

Ambiguous doubts assure my hopeless future goals.
Every step of mine has fallen in pity pit-holes,
But a writer easily accepts what is written...
What is waiting for the Bohemian?

There are so many things.
Moments.
Embraces.
Jokes.
Kisses.
Comforting words.
Lovely scents from intricate bottles.
The feeling of your fingers gliding up and down.
Then the electric hum that cascades afterward.
A list that can extend to the heavens.
Is now a momento to a time that i wished would also be unending.
Im not bleeding.
Im not breathing..
Im not achieving...
I tried to move mountains.
And failed.
I tried to be more than i was.
And stumbled.
I tried to do what others could not.
And lost..
I want so badly to encompass and embody all that was needed.
Yet it sadly consumed me and spat me out of pity.
Why are there days coming that should have your presence...
And now don't.
What purpose can there be in being in love..
When it can grow else where at anytime.
Anger crippled our relationship..
But neglect was the rocket fuel.
I fear that heart brake may be the end.
For motivation to BE is slipping.
You will always be beautiful.
Always be generous and kind.
You will be the woman i will need to compare to others.
And will never come close.
You are going to be last thing on my mind for the rest of my life..
And that..is something that i will sadly cherish.
Perhaps i will be worth it just like you are.
Maybe one day..this sorrow will end.

Kneeling form
Prayers uttered
Eyes look up to heaven

Slender match
Waiting wick
Paid by proffered coin

Tiny fire burns
Wax of holy hope
Melted prayers glisten

Moist eyes reflect
Tears slowly dry
Tracks on sorrowed checks

Another coin
Another flame
Who would be to blame

The burning candle
Flickering tells
It’s time for letting go

Burning low
Hope gutters
Golden rings forgotten

I find it harder and harder to wake up  in the morning not because im lazy or I dont want to go to school. Its solely because im tired; tired of opening my eyes and realizing that Im still here  that i havent been granted my single wish from that one person we call "god". That i have to live through another day in the dark abyuss you call home. I never wanted this life, to be this *******- montser my own mother hides away in her closet, I long for the day i can be happy.  Where i can feel love for the first time. I dont belong here. You see the other day while you all slept, I stayed awake. Its nothing unusal on my part. I live in the dark, sad and alone. Its where ive always been, all ive ever known. That night, this darkness was deeper than before as i sat on my bed and cried my nightly tears I stared into the darkness, looking for my hands Until i rasied them and the tiny sliver of light from my window reflected off my old trusted friend. The cold rusted piece of metal felt right in my hands. It gave me this happiness ill never understand. I shine the glare on my upper leg the lines of dispointment and shame show- themselfs as i read through them; Oh the story they tell.  I know what they all mean I remember every scar and why they lay upon my skin, its a sad story they hold. This one right here the crooked small one Thats the one that started it all. Or this one The wide long dark one twords the end The day i found out i was nothing more than a usless bag of roting flesh to her, that i'll be alone forever.  Thats the one ill never forget Because even to this day I rememeber her sweet soft voice yell at me in the middle of the lunch line to leave her alone. As much as i dont want to remember, no amount of alcohol can fill in the gap she left open Each and every line i read gets me into this rage i cant control Wanting to blame everyone for my problems but i know i caused them myself. I squeze that thin sheet of happiness in my fist and i feel this pain race up my arm  When i let go, my palm is full of this beautiful liquid that remind me im still human. To you it might not seem like much  But to those who understand that unwriten languge you read in the blood "If only this was enough to end your pain, im sorry im insifishant" Its morning now These thoughts have held me back from being happy for once. What is there to do now? Nothing. I have to wait my turn again Oh well, im already used to the feeling of disapointment. I clean myself off in the bathroom right before i look into the mirror. Theres no way to decribe that feeling you get when you look in your eyes and see all the wrong youve ever done.  "Its late, they'll wake up soon" i tell myself  under my breath. I rush to my phone and open to the screen shot of the day i got a taste of what love is. I reread the single reply over and over in my mind before i hear the russle of blankets from the thing my mother decribes as her only son that lays a sleep less than a foot from my bed. "I...i love you"  I try to remember the sound her mouth made as she studered that phrase. " Its time "  I get up from my soon to be death bed and put on my mask before anyone sees The same mask i made myself several years ago. Theres cracks and chips, yes But thats what makes it so uniqe. People try peaking into see my hell. So I do what any scared human would do, push them away. So far they give up and walk away. Im at school, its lunch. I open the door leading into the stair well and i see her. My last hope  Right before she sees me, i count  1...2...3 I remove my mask and hide it  Im shaking shes the first to see whats under. All the years of lonelines will hopefully end today when i show her my heart. Sadly They didnt. They seemed to get lonelier now  "Ding, ding" I dont want to go home I see her car outside waiting for me I feel the vibration in my pocket , I know its her.  I walk slowly down those steps leading to the front.  As i open the door to the outside theres this hope that flutters in my heart the hope i get to see her one last time before i go.  My puples dilate and the sudden blindness fades away  Only to show nobody there. Im "home" now. Theres nothing i can do anymore I just wait here for my time to come.  Its bed time already and i open back to the picture "I...i love you" Thats all i need. The sounds began to fade into the dark  I see her.  No more than a arm away theres nothing around but us. I watch her lips move "I...i love you"  I hear her more vivid than ever tonight. My eyes slowly open Instintly tears rush down the side of my face landing onto the pillow. And so it begans again..

last week my dad told me  
i am going to be homeless
when i grow up  

but from what i can see
i am not going to  
make it that far

I’m feeling this way,
I don’t yet know how to escape
Yet I know it will evade at some point,
I’ve been drifting in and out,
Without much sound,
For maybe a year now, maybe only a second.
Should I think it’s an overstatement?
Is that what I’ve been lead to know?
Or is it just my mind bringing false accusations to surface?
Could it be because people want to doubt me,
Or because I assume if it’s happened to me it’s just a little bit, it’s only small; it doesn’t matter,
Not at all.

Three years? Four or five? Maybe none,
It’s not real, this doesn’t count.
Anxiety. It’s anxiety they said.
We’ll give you these pills,
Because you’re complaining about something else,
But we won’t acknowledge that.
You feel terrible, but we’ll say we’re treating the thing that you’ve put in some sort of remission.
Listen, listen. Why do they never listen?

It’s not that bad. How do I word it?
I could say I feel dead, but not really,
It’s been worse before,
So I don’t feel like I can use that description anymore.
It will go away soon,
I should be happy.
Actually, should I? I should feel tragic.
I do but I feel good sometimes too.
Why am I trying? No one who sees this will understand.
How about, it’s this:
I want to do something but I don’t feel like anything.
I don’t feel good but it’s not anxiety -
it’s been trickling in, but not this time, it’s not just that.
Maybe my emotions have just gone underground today,
Maybe it thought it would match to how I’m physically feeling.
I woke up so exhausted, I told someone I’m sick,
Still sick,
And they said being tired doesn’t make you sick,
But this isn’t normal tiredness,
This isn’t feeling down so your body can’t be bothered either,
This is one way of what it can feel like
When your body’s done with you,
And mines been done a long time,
But never long enough to care,
And in a decade it still won’t be time,
But I guess I should be content because
It’s only been five-hundred-and-thirty-two days.

I know no one will believe me, but maybe that’s okay,
For now,
After all, I can’t say any of these things out loud.
Like monsters, they would all surround me, laughing maliciously,
Thinking they were right,
They’re not, but how much longer do I have to put up a fight?
No one can know if I feel stressed or upset,
Not sad because then their army will have ammunition,
Meanwhile I have nothing.
Nothing, give me something,
But actually no, maybe I can’t take anymore false hope,
Because everyone, all of them, have ******* me over,
Time and time again.
They think I’m stressed, I’m not ill,
So if I say I’m starting to become stressed, unhappy, not good...
Well I don’t know what will happen,
They’ve already destroyed every single part of me.
I don’t want to give them more reasons to disbelieve my honesty.