Did you think it was fake?
Did you think I was joking?
The **** I used to say to you
You pushed it away,
Set me straight,
And for once I wasnt helpless.

But I feel like I'm fighting it by myself now
You don't have time for this **** anymore.

Everyone has their own demons,
And nobody has time for mine.
I'm behind closed doors
******* holding a rope and a nine
Or I wished that I was.
And if you're reading this online
I'm still here,
A coward
If you're reading this on my phone
It's because I wanted you to see
I scream for help but nobody's listening.

If you're reading this on a note,
It's too late.
****.
I'm sorry.

Am I less masculine now?
Now that I write poems.

Am I less of a man now?
Now that I show my feelings.

Am I feminine now?
Now that I have emotions.

I think not,
Why do others disagree?

In our messages I send you yellow hearts,
Is it because they remind me of the warmth of the sun?
Or is it to remind you we'll never be done?
If I were to explain, I wouldn't know where to start,
Honestly I only know why in part.
It could be because I feel like you're the one,
That our journey has only just begun,
Maybe it's just because it sets them apart.

I think the answer is more subtle,
It's that you're the perfect one for me,
That one day I see us together in a chapel,
And that every day you become more beautiful,
That you've always been the one to set me free.
It's all of it, because every moment with you is blissful

Am I paranoid? Maybe.
I've always been one to stay up at night,
Lay awake in my bed with no light.

My mind races,
It's why I don't sleep,
The bags under my eyes tell the story.

I always keep someone up with me,
Because I don't want to be alone,
I'm scared enough of that already.

I'm not scared of losing all my friends,
I always have family to rely on,
But there's one thought that always plagues me.

I don't want to lose the one I care about most,
The heart that beats alongside mine,
Because without it. I'll turn into a ghost.

I want to write about dandelions,
Covering the side of the road,
Making the city a meadow.
So why does my pen always write about pain,
Why do I only think about sad moments.

I want to write about the sun shining,
My skin soaking it up,
Warming my soul.
So why do I always think of sad memories,
Why do tears spring to my eyes.

I want to write about love,
How I finally feel whole,
Complete at last.
So why do I only write about it all ending,
Why do I wait for my death.

I want to write about the good,
So why do I only see the bad?
Why can't I let myself be happy?

I leave a bit of my soul in every month,
It's sad but it's honest,
But I've got nothing left to give.
April took it all.

I've never had faith in the human race,
I've stayed up so many late nights in heated debates,
Arguing about the meaning of life.
My thoughts. There isn't one.
That's the reason I come so close every time I try,
The knife in my room pressed to my skin,
I try but don't have the strength to drag it.
I don't want it to be superficial, if I make the cut there's no going back,
But my will is softer than my tissue.

I wish I believed in God,
I wish he could give my life meaning,
Because I need a miracle to make it out this year.
Even if he exists and is looking down on me now,
Even if everyone I knew is rooting for me from above,
I don't deserve my spot there.

The only thing that keeps me going,
Is that somewhere out there, there's a name written in the stars
And I hope it's yours.

The only thing keeping a hopeless romantic alive.
Love.