Do I want to die?  Do I want to cry?  Men don't cry, why do I?  I'm scared of death.  Do I try to die?  I stay on heavy drink.  I try hard not to think.  As I try, I slide down a ride of overthinking; stuttering and more heavy drinking.  I'm told i'm in a twister.  Am I old enough to be called mister?  Should I have never kissed her?  Is my life just a blister?  The kind that come unwanted.  They grow and choose their way.  Till one day they pop and then I never missed her.

I think this spider can fly.  I've heard of a web; but, his was destine to hide.  This spider would never abide.  A wanderer, with only wind to fear.  It's why he felt so free.  Nestled in the air, near a young oak tree.

Plain seems too pain and simple.  Plainly put, pain seems plain. How could we know each other, through pain and gain?  Or is it gain and simple?  Just plainly gained?  Twisted words make a twister.  At least I know one true.  My words create

Do five syllables
Do five syllables again
This is a haiku

Y is the second to last letter in the alphabet.  Does it ask a question to Z?  Why then Z?  Do you mean more then me?  Y said.  But while getting the reply the world ended.  ZZZ

I've heard that you are pretty.  That you have no need to dress.  I've heard you come easy to those that are in distress.  But still you humor those who try and make the press.  Is your work limitless?  I have seen happiness make you fly.  So for a man who cries and just can't shine,  I feel your loneliness.   Everyone can use you.  They say you are on their side.  Does this even bruise you?  Or are you just some little ride.  Well i wrote this out only to understand.  But you, Poetry can not save me, so try another man.