I read beautiful poems and wonder
Why in mine all I find is fault and blunder
I caress the neat words as much as I can
Hoping the more I read the more I learn
I peruse through funny poems and laugh
Yet if I try it out myself It's really tough
So I read inspirationals day and night
Thinking for sure ,improve I might
I scroll past those I feel ain't my type
Looking for those with acclaim and hype
Poetic literature really does take all my time
'Cause I'm in a hunt for that perfect rhyme
But all I do is find highly fascinating pieces
And all they do is leave me angry and peaceless
I read poems because I'm seeking for consolation
And I even find more than this ,to my consternation
I probably read poems because they are easy to read
Or I'm just so lonely and they are the company I need

"do you love poetry?"
"yes, and art and books."
"so you love all the beautiful things, do you love yourself?"
"no."

*and i thought she loved all the beautiful things.

She wants to be noticed and seen
he see's only from within himself
mascara tears run down her face
black streams that reflect her soul
he see's nothing but a flickering screen
she recoils into a lonely asylum
sanctuary for the lonely hearts
lesser things are left unspoken
echos of the voices inside her head
he see's everything but is blind
she see's nothing but the void.