How dare you.
How, DARE, you.
Try to talk to me...
as if you don't remember anything.

I trusted you back then
when I needed a friend,
you were nothing of the sort!
You were the opposite.

I try my best, I try really hard
to leave grudges in my past...
but I have a dreaded feeling
that this grudge for you, may last.

Pretending to be there for me,
patting my back so comfortingly.
When really all you were doing
was luring me in.

Down to last second.
Before I was faint,
I swear I remember
the smile on your face.

I can't stand it.
How easily you decided my fate.
How do ******* live with yourself?
You make me feel things I can't bare to say.

This is for you lame poets

for those who think they can write

but aren't trying and they know it

Maybe if they used a pen right

The ink, would, in turn, show it

Scribble lines were written for pure hype

The Opposite of blurred is focused

The passion unveiled by this action is real

Massive of accents appeal, drastic yet passively chill

Why is your wackness alive and steadily actively well?

Are your points derived from a skill?

You're as dull as the night without lights or some thrill

Pick up a quill then ignite likes its hell

Shuffle your words, in return make a deal

Lies from the truth, I can easily tell

I sit in a booth, then I write what I feel

That feeling of feeling that moment of falling, emotions are heavy and heavy is frolicking

That was a lie....I hope you are following

There's a doubt in my mind, you aren't reading this properly

Do not get board...then just GO like monopoly

Maybe if I put a few words down, you will rate it

There are poets who show it...yet are still underrated

A sea full of story's that have been negated

I write what I feel and I will not be waiting

These words of chemistry clutch captivation

Winds of auroras spark smart illustrations

Verbal wasteland I recycle the sanitation

My heart pumps to fuel the blood of imagination

Devour all who find word-puzzles an aggravation

I take inspiration from various locations,then stitch words to combine these places

Now look what has happened

An arsenal of words to engage in action

Here's a hint of wordplay with a dash of passion

lyrical disaster for the eyes of the masses

Simply dedicated to the three-lined poet has bins

Crying Night

You said mean
nasty
horrible
teasing
things

you didn’t think
about what you said
to me

I turned my back
and we sat in silence.
The glow of our phones lighting up our faces
mine, sad
yours, oblivious

mine, a way out of our plans tomorrow
yours, Facebook scrolling

then,
the last straw
the tip of the iceberg
it wasn’t the things he said that night
it was everything
it was me feeling like I wasn’t good enough
our hearts filled not equally

mine, full, overflowing, even
yours, unsure,
you turned to me and tried to make me giggle
react
laugh
at a post
I shoved you
and the flood gates opened
first quietly
then raging
heavy, breathe taking sobs
crying crying

then you realized
this wasn’t a joke
you held me tight
and I told you why
All of it, and you laid and listened
silence
shhhhhh you said.
shhhhhh you’re okay.
shhhh

No,
No I’m not
this isn’t okay.


why am I not enough
the way I feel is too much
I shouldn’t have to hold it all back
You’ve turned me into an insomniac

I look at the bookshelf
Standing in front of me
The many stories
That can be read
And make adventures

I wish I could just
Choose a book
And live in that world
No matter how perfect
Or horrible it is
At least
It would be better
Than mine

I was freshly turned 17, you were freshly turned 21.
I didn't know you ***** me at the time, but I now know for sure.
I was madly in love with another woman, frustrated I wasn't getting her.
So you saw an opportunity to teach me the birds and the bees.
Yet you were still a stranger to me.
How could I say no with my raging hormones?
Didn't think that desire would burn into my bones
Never expected an addiction to make its home in me.
In between these years I'm still within that sphere
Another one night stand, another *** buddy, another thrill that kills a part of me.
I bet you didn't think that your in-between-boyfriends-plaything would start doing what you did to me.
Except now I despise myself when I realized I take advantage of my playthings... maybe ***** someone like you ***** me.
I don't blame you, though. I only blame myself.
I'm trying to forgive you, like I'm learning to forgive myself.