Poetry describes the inner darkness,
that I hide from the world.

I guess you could say,
I am just a villain
in my own story.

It was so much easier
When I just
wanted it all.

i woke up today
with a headache pounding like an unwelcome guest
at the door to my mind
last night i slept restlessly
thrown around like a doll
through clusters of unpleasant dreams
of old friends and strangers
familiar places and abnormal universes
of stories i cannot understand
the line between dreams and reality blurs
what life am i living?

It seems as though,
every day, something else
decides to give way.

Like an old wooden
bridge, crippling over
top of a dark pit.
Life can break,
letting you fall into
that deep abyss.

The one wood
plank, meant to hold
you high, gives up
and lets you die.

Life is the bridge,
you are the plank.
I have fallen,
and have you to thank...

To explain art I have to start somewhere
A space to right what I was wrong about
A place to think the answers I want to know
To search out and find where my heart hides
Where my song resides
A hole existence
With a void
Or a whole life full of joy
I write to hear my pains, and see your smiles
to explain what I can't speak aloud during the miles
Traveled in this life
Boots worn down to broken souls
Souls worked into accomplished life goals
The tolls that made this face happy
Were paid in blood sweat and tears

Blazing life sets my soul on fire
All white clouds and green meadows
I can’t help but stare now
I haven’t a care now
And darling, we can breathe, finally
Set myself lose, run me dizzy
Let me live and let me die
Here I stay, forget me not
While I grasp tightly to this sweet lie.