I hide my poetry from you,
to hide the things so painfully true,
the things I don't have, the words to say,
so I keep them from you, but maybe one day...
I won't have to.

You're gone again, I should stop trying.
I should speed up, this slow, slow dying.
When you came back, I let myself care,
and was happy a moment, an occurrence so rare,
yet you are gone, and it doesn't matter.
I've no longer a heart, for your absence to shatter.

And they won't even notice, and they won't even care,
and it makes no difference, that I'm not even there.
So when the day comes, and I'm gone for good,
they'll continue unaffected, just as they should

Goodnight my dear, I hope it's great,
better than, those as of late,
I hope you sleep and dream so fine,
even though I can't finish this next line.

I'm in the mood to a write a poem,
give me ideas and to you I'll show 'em,
in the form of rhymes or some special prose,
romantic, sad, cute, or any of those.

I'm the mood to show some more,
but I can't show the ones, about the girl I adore.

I'm the person they all come to, when they need a helping hand,
and I'm happy that's the role I play, though it's not the one I planned.
Yet who can I go to, when I'm the one that's breaking?
When my mind's a mess, and my heart just keeps on aching.
Perhaps I should just sit here, shaking all alone,
pretending I am doing just fine, wearing a mask of stone.

There no way to win, a war you're not waging,
so I'll channel this fire, that inside me is raging.
Yet I won't let it change me, my honour I'll uphold,
and let never be said, when my story is told,
that I did the wrong thing, to fulfill my desire,
even if saying I got it, would make me a liar.