At the back of the stage in a gloomy wee room
Where the cockroaches eat what the rats don’t consume
There’s a table enveloped in paper and grime
On a carpet now lost to a happier time
With a cast iron typewriter, rusted with age
In the gloomy wee room at the back of the stage

And under a lampshade of nicotine brown
Sits a comical legend of zero renown
How he plugs at the keys of his rattling beast
The years of persistence have left him decreased
Now he’s stuck in the shade of his hovering doom
At the back of the stage in a gloomy wee room

His words are for others and too, the applause
Though a standing ovation might cause him to pause
He hasn’t the courage to speak them aloud
For he’s lacking the bottle and shy of a crowd
So he captures the laughter in lines on his page
In a gloomy wee room at the back of the stage

Obsession was the name of my game.
I didn't know how to love healthily.
I allowed myself to be ****** in
By the vacuum that was you.
And in return
I crushed you.
With my hellfire
And the blood of wolves
Coursing through my veins and
You did not weather the storm
For I was not a breeze.
I was not a breeze, but a hurricane,
Bringing destruction and chaos to everything I touched.
So I walked alone
Ever searching for someone
Who could take me as I was
Who could handle the sounds of my cries
The hurricanes from my wings
And did not try and tame
What they could not.

I grew up thinking that,
People couldn't make you feel anything,
It was all self inflicted,
All your train of thought,
And the way you saw it.

You can let it slide,
Like water off a ducks' back,
Or you can let it get to you,
Let it circle your mind,
Ruining your self-image.

But now I know that,
What people say, can hurt,
Not only emotionally,
But physically,
Especially when it's a loved one.

Someone close to me recently said,
That all I did was stay at home,
Sleep, and write poetry.

That's all my life really was,
Three things,
Three aspects of my personality,
And the only three.

Life isn't always going to be sunny,
There will be a few cloudy days,
A few storms that will eventually pass,
And a few barriers that need to be broken.

People can't make you feel something,
But they sure can influence it,
Not everyone would agree,
But isn't that what an opinion is?

I'm more than three things,
I am human,
I am important,
And so are you.

I waited patiently,
On the park bench,
He was ten minutes late,
The minutes ticked by.

Twenty,
Thirty,
Forty,
He wasn't coming.

But I still waited,
With hope.

He never came,
I'm still waiting.

Youth,
As I watch the children,
Playing and laughing,
I wonder what my life would be like,
If I had that opportunity.

Youth,
As I watch the children,
Smiling and hugging their parents,
I wonder what my life would be like,
If my parents had cared for me.

Youth,
As I watch the children,
Riding their bikes around the park,
I wonder what my life would be like,
If we had that kind of money.

Youth,
I wish mine was more like theirs'.

You miss a meal,
Then it turns to two,
A day passes,
And no one notices you.

Craving nutrition,
There goes a week,
Those many hours,
Longing for something to eat.

Using the same excuse,
"I'm not hungry, I just ate,"
The numbers keep dropping,
Was sixty-three, now fifty-eight.

You can't go back,
People are noticing you,
They say you should eat, and you say,
"You have something better to do."

It's harder than you think,
Just leave me alone!
Stop telling me to eat and drink!
If I need you, I can find my phone.