Wrapped in a cloak
I see your shining face
guide me by the hand
through life's darkest phase

Wash me off my evils
you made me pure
be it rebirth or repent
you've got all my gratitude for ever more

Getting on my knees
It would've been so undoable without you
I take your hand to kiss it,
but you vanish

This is not a poem, but I wanted to say that I won't be posting for a while because my 4 year-long friendship with a friend passed away in a car crash and it's going to take me some time to get over it because he was the closest friend I have ever had.

Congrats, you survived
so long. Life is difficult.
Shown bravery, you!

He stood tall,
Long misunderstood;
no thought at all
of sentiment or brotherhood

He was a hero, you see
He bore no pain at all,
or thought so thee

And at the chime of a clock
He jumped off the dock
And bore no pain again.

He saved you from drowning
But you didn't save him
For not your thought
would have thought
that there was pain
boring, in him.

You know as you lie,
on the bedspread,
the wood creaks in distress, while the springs squeal in protest,
where dreams find their way
to your empty head.
While you lie still,
with ignorance and disrespect.

You know as you admire,
your empty headspace
the mirror's eye strongly so wishes
to go far far away
as though it fears if you stare too long
the linger of your spectre will forever taint its gaze
and be the source of its nightmares
till the end of time too long.

You know you bully
the ears of your victims
with your voice so unpleasant
to make deaf people
grateful, for once.
Of your vocals so poor
your ears wish
they could tear themselves apart
for this torture so painful
and seemingly so endless
as you go on and on
and never know how to stop.

You know the oxygen curses you
as it gets pulled into your lungs
through your disgraceful nostrils
ensuring your livelihood
always so unwanted
It blows fires big and strong
just for once, for once,
longing you to inhale
some of THAT instead
so that it wouldn't waste itself away with you.

So maybe, just maybe,
If you succumb, to correct
these qualities so uncalled for,
your existence might be something
worth
for.

"Ack," I expressed my annoyance,
as the tip of the pencil,
broke and rolled away
for what seemed
like the millionth time.

At first I thought
that "I wasn't even-"
putting much pressure, right?
"Maybe the pencil's just weak."

But then I wondered
with the voice of my heart,
if my parents would wonder
the same exact thing,
with the exact same annoyance,
if I broke and went away like that.

But unlike them, hopefully
I'll know what I did wrong.

She said, "Look at her, she's so pretty!"
I thought, "Is she?"
So I looked and looked,
At the deep, dark ocean in her eyes,
Like anyone would voluntarily drown in them.
At the luscious, dark lashes
overshadowing her eyes.
At the adorable little nose of a snub,
which most could only wish for.
At the plump, firm lips,
which reminds me of tulips
At the fair, fair skin
and the thick black curtain cascading like a blanket
down her back.
But all I saw
was the lone in the ocean,
the dark beneath her eyes,
the heaviness of her frown
and the tense of her shoulders.
Which, I am sure, I'm the only one who noticed
Of course I did, I have been looking at her all my life.
She is me.