You listen to me But you don't hear me at all I'm not so sure you heard My screams and my bawls You left me to sit here, Watch me crumble and fall Now I'm positive You don't care at all Because you never pick Up the phone when I call Now I'll sit here alone And talk to these Paper thin walls
Now I'll sit here alone and talk to these paper thin walls
I’m trying to express how I feel like I did as a child, Through crayons and pencils Pressed into paper until they break in two. How can I feel so hopeless Doing something I used to love to do? Like I did as a child I make myself small and cry in my closet That painful sobbing that hurts your throat And convince myself yet again to give up.
The other day A match struck my roughness And anxiousness took me to be freed by fire As I burned away all of your rusted memories Which'd been stored for yet another day Which turned out to be today In ashes your words Cast, burn and floating away
Whether spoken Or written down upon paper It can never be taken away It shall linger In pen In minds Filled with love Filled with hate Healing Festering The power to raise up kingdoms from nothing And destroy them just as quickly Laying forgotten in drafts In stories of old their songs lost Among the dust of the past Spreading truth Spreading lies Words are the unwritten paradoxes Waiting to find their place in the world
READ the poem before your eyes. Speaking aloud is a pleasant surprise for the sitting poem, in disguise, is waiting for a reader to watch it’s sunrise.
Poems always mean more than what people think. Don’t be too quick to move your pen.
i picture red ugly drunks, bitter while delirious women dance around them Together, lathered in music, rock symphonies trudge over their pounding headaches
