Thou shall not plagiarize other people's work
The first commandment for a poet
It's a shame that some people do it
While others simply don't know it

A poem doesn't always have to rhyme
The second commandment we must obey
But some people choose not to listen
Regardless of what others might say

A poem can be about anything you want
The third commandment sends some people reeling
They think it can't be a poem at all
Unless it's something to do with our feelings

Thou shall not criticize others unjustly
The fourth commandment we must adhere
They don't need their creation destroyed
It's constructive critisim they want to here

A poem can be any length you choose
The fifth commandment we all must follow
For if they were all made the same
It would surely be hollow

The vocabulary is strictly up to the poet
The sixth commandment is the poet's choice
He alone can decide the words to use
That will best give him his voice

Inspiration can come from anywhere we like
The seventh commandment we all hold true
Everyone has their writer's block moments
So whatever helps us get through

The poet can write any form they want
The eighth commandment is a must
The poet knows the style they like best
And their choices we're obliged to trust

Poetry is all a matter of taste
The ninth commandment is just like the rest
The reader must choose what's dear to his heart
And the poems that he likes the best

Never alienate your readers
The tenth commandment speaks for itself
Cause if you act like you're better than them
Your books will stay on the shelf

I cant think
I cant breathe
All I am
Is mad
I breathe deep
I grate my teeth
I squeeze my phone
Till it almost breaks.
But nothing helps
this angry feeling.
maybe if I hadn't
been pushed
To my breaking point
then maybe
I would be ok
Maybe
I wouldn't feel so bad.
Maybe if you
just believed
that not everything is my fault.
it really hurts
that you don't
Believe me!
You just blame me
Don't you think
I already hate me
enough?
I'm tired of your critisim
your accusing words
And your hypocritical looks.
I hate it
And I cant say anything back!!!!!
And that's what makes me
mad the most!

i live in my own little community
we are all crazy
we are broken
we are wounded
from the things weve been through, the things we seen.
we are ruined from the things that stick with us.
tears running down your face, when they hit the ground they seem so loud.
we are all a little insane here.
your breathing seems so loud.
from our abusive parents or the critisim we deal with everyday,
the knife that met our wrists or the drugs we got hooked on
we are bruised
we are damaged
living here i am never alone
your heart beat seems so loud.
i open my eyes and suddenly,
i don't hear your tears anymore.
i can't hear your breathing anymore?
why did your heart stop beating?
i take a look around me and finally
the reality hits me of having noone.
it's just me and these **** padded walls.

The clock strikes eight o'clock and the realization sets in. The birds have stopped their singing, the sun has ceased it's shining, and the wind is not blowing.
There is nothing but my thoughts and I. The world is still, not a cloud in sight. I am a prisoner taken by night.
Succeeding in forcing my thoughts out of my mind in the day, they hit me like  a ton of bricks.
I am a prisoner.  They lock me in my room when all I want to do is sit and watch the stars. They force me to give into the shadows, to sit by myself and think.
I am not allowed to write, for my hands are tied behind my back and they have broken my pencils in to. Forever do I long to be freed, to be who I am, a free spirit. I do not wish to be captivated by normalcy any longer.
They feel it in their fingertips and in their toes.
I was meant for so much more.
My heart yearns to be free, to feel what it wants without critisim.
My thoughts ache to be written.