My heart is a pin cushion.
Various people have stuck needles
into it; but that's its purpose.
That's the good part.

The bad part, you see,
is when the needles are taken out.
I no longer have a meaning,
and I no longer feel loved
or useful.

Because what is a pin cushion
without needles?
I've got the holes
where they once were,
but that is all I have.

My heart is a petty, scarred
little pin cushion.
And there aren't any needles in sight.

(d.d.b)

Why do I even bother? The world is full of stupid lies,
Write this silly trash and it becomes another waste of time,
Perhaps someone will notice, of course nobody ever does,
It's just that we're ALL losers until we've "flown like the gods,"
This will be my last poem, I always promise myself it must be,
But eventually I cave and waste my time on another rhyme,
Fill the world with more useless verse that no one will ever read.

Will I ever stop being a failure?
Will there come a time that I do something right?

Cause right now...
I cant live like this.
Feeling this way...
Knowing how I am.

When all I seem to be is a child.
Unable to look after myself,
You shouldn't need to waste your time on me...
I waste enough of yours already.

Sorry I'm impossible to deal with...
I just hope I'm not too big a ***** up...
And you can still love me no different come morning.

A book shouldn't be judged by its cover they said.
A person should be judged on their heart they said.
Plenty of books go unread
They are too small
Too thick
Too old
Too beat up

People and love have the same fate as a book.
Love is hypocritical.
How can an emotion, that is said to be
Judged by the heart,
Consider the optical cortex's opinion.
Before it weighs a soul
Hypocrites.

Predators are lead by their sight as well.
Killing off prey
In blood lust
That is interesting.
Perhaps lust is the issue
Their eyes devour what they want
While the heart is left empty.

If I lose weight am I subscribing to this belief?
Am I not fit enough to be loved?
Would being devoured by predators truly mend my heart?
My windowless soul bleeds.
While their eyes ignore me.
Am I changing myself to be loved, or
Can love change itself to find me?

I am a failure.
Yes, I understand this.
Thank you
For reminding me though
I really needed that.

I know I am clumsy,
I know I talk funny,
I know all this.
No need to remind me.

I know I am worthless
I know I am hopeless
I already tell myself this
No need for you to also

Yes,
I know I am a failure.
I know this
I know this
I know this

Please though,
Do not remind me,
Let me talk to people,
And not feel guilty
Once in awhile

I know I am a failure,
Now do me a favor,
And quit reminding me

Guess it means nothing
95 or not
Drop out
Drag on
**** up

I hate this potential
Nervous burns wander my skin
Reciting old poetry

Expect nothing
I keep saying
Expect nothing

Remember the morning after
How we bathed in cypress
So we’d live forever?

I talked circles round your neck
And settled in the empty space your body left

I lost you.
(All my own fault)

You left me.
(All my own fault)

I tried to get you back.
(I failed)

I thought you would forgive me
And come back.
(You didn't).

You hate me now.
Or probably I'm simply not worth remembering.

Now I bleed.
Now I bleed.
Now I bleed...

The river only reflects a mute scene
for it does not hear the crackle of flames,
nor the screams being choked on by smoke
while tree limbs crash down in a heated blaze
because it can only observe this sight
and feel like it is useless against a
fiery beast.