When the days are long and the nights are restless,
we seek for a way to forget.
We bathe in our sorrows.
We rip ourselves to shreds.
We bleed to feel, because not feeling hurts more then the pain of blades.
When life ***** us over we struggle to climb back up,
and when we get up. Life laughs and kicks us down again.

Whats the point.
We feel nothing.
We are in an endless cycle.
Whats the point.

Life is sure to cost you whilst on the path you choose.
And there will be heartache from things that you will lose.
A greater pain you may encounter, at a far greater cost,
is to no longer see a value in things that once you lost.

Everything I’m writing is a waste of time .
Tell me ,
What will this change ?
How will this eliminate that pain in my chest ?
Explain how writing my thoughts out can possibly help me .
Because these words feel useless .
Half filled water balloons
but instead of water
it’s fire .
Throwing fire balloons
Yet I live in a wooden shed .
None of this makes any sense .

These words feel like they’re burning a hole
In this poem
And not one you’re likely to remember .
Something insignificant .
Something only a grain of sand could fall through .
Tell me ,
How can someone as unimportant as me
Truly be heard ?
I speak when spoken to
And sometimes I speak just because .
But instead of a voice , all you hear are squeaks.
Unused to truly vocalizing what’s important to me
Because every time I used to try to speak my piece ,
They muted me .
How can I speak
If my problems don’t mean
A **** thing .
I talk about me to me
So much yet I don’t care about me .
So , my problems ?
They mean less to me than me .

Why is there only light at the end of the tunnel? Dont you know there are people lost in here?

When someone tells you not to worry.... "it may never happen".... you can be pretty sure they have never had the same bad **** happen twice.

Once you lose respect for a persons right to be wrong you are always wrong and if I am wrong that's my right.

Respect.... give it to get it.... if you don't then you shouldn't be surprised at what you get in return.

what’s the ******* point
one day you could be perfectly content
the next everything could be ripped away
if everything is going to go to **** anyway
if you know your happiness won’t last
why does it even matter.

Hi. Do you care enough to hear me whine?
I fear that you don’t see me
collecting dust in the dim corner of your room.
And while you stand and stare,
completely absorbed by your own despair,
I remain
ready to serve you  
and your meaningless life.
I can clean your room, yet I can’t clean your mind
of the false reality exemplified by your kind.


We are similar though, you and I.
Wasting our time amassing, acquiring, accumulating.
Honestly, we’re mere specks of life,
surrendering to realities constructed by our minds.
Don’t you know that your beloved earthly pleasures
are one and the same as the ******* that I collect?
Hard-earned, elusive, temporal, disposable.
Its laughable how ignorant you are;
consumed by your own subliminal thoughts,
leaving you searching for the remnants of what is and what is not.


Can’t you see the fallacies present in your head?
Gleaming yet blinding, salient yet obscure.
Armed with benevolent promises
that ultimately leave you for dead.
Can’t you see that what you crave
will inevitably **** you down to your grave?
Incessantly coated with wondrous, tempting illusions
that disguise its true nature--garbage.
Garbage. Connect the dots, you fool.
Can’t you see that you and I are one and the same?

I feel like that even if I am a child I still can make an impact; my naivete could be a learning experience.  I dream to be young and wise yet know I'm doomed to be foolish and old.  I can't stop thinking about my foolish love, my puberty, and my raging hormones. I wish I was an adult yet dream to be a child.  I want to be impressionable for the rest of my life, but that's not how it works.

I wonder if you'll read my poetry one day, and reminisce upon all the good times we could have had. I know...it's pointless to hold a grudge. Life would be simpler if I just moved on without anger. However, I do confess, I want to know one last thing--did you ever understand what I meant?