Chant that you are brave,
Even as your body begins to quake;
Exclaim that you need not be saved,
Endeavor to alter your own fate.

Affirmations deserve more credit;
Say anything enough and you'll believe.
It's wholly possible to edit,
A new response to fear needs to be conceived.

Therapy is not at my beck and call,
But willpower will help me revise,
Prevent me from facing a dastardly fall,
A pivoting, terminating demise.

The man stepped into his childhood home,
Like a thief breaking in,
He had never belonged there,
So it felt wrong, a sin.

Now that his parents' light had been quenched
And he'd been granted access to this place,
He traced his hands over the mud-room bench.

He explored the house, touching
And feeling
The many things his parents had owned,
Things that left his mind blown.

A bible, a cross, a portrait of daily devotions,
A sad smile touched his face,
What a notion.

These people who hated him
And had hung him out to dry,
Had convinced themselves they were justified,
Before they died.

Before their bodies blended with nature;
Disappearing into the very soil,
They no longer had to remember the toil.

It was fresh in his mind.
His fingers left the bible,
And that was the last time.

He wouldn't be back,
He'd never think of them again,
They had caused nothing but pain
For little Ben.

For a while,
I've thought of changing my name;
I wanted Cody to be the past,
A new title to spring forth for my frame.

Maybe my middle,
Which seems a foreign title.
Or maybe a new one entirely,
To make this life more vital.

But can I do it, cut ties with
All I knew?
With who I was,
Can that be through?

I'm not sure of the right choice,
And that is okay;
I'm still a boy who is
A little afraid.

But I'll determine in time,
What I believe to be right;
And I will defend it with
All of my might.

I have lost something, at some point,
And I fear I will never have it back.
It pains me to think about the past,
For it reminds me of what I lack.

I'm not quite sure how to move forward,
Or how to fix this condition;
It is sad that I have ended up this way,
A disturbing and abysmal rendition.

With knowledge comes power,
Power follows along so close behind.
With knowledge also comes loss,
Innocence is no longer mine.

I fear I have went too far,
I fear there is not much left for me.
I fear I have locked my heart's door,
And let darkness swallow the key.

My goodness peeks through sometimes,
But it is just smothered by disease.
And no matter how hard I try,
It's a sickness I cannot appease.

I wish that God existed,
A merciful, kind deity above,
One that didn't just speak
But act upon the written love.

If that was true, I could find solace,
But God does not exist,
I am finding another way,
Other than religion's devious mist.

Or perhaps that is an overstatement,
For I see no solution.
My morality has bent recently,
Undergoing evil dilution.

I have lost something, at some point,
And I fear I will never have it back.
It pains me to think about the past,
For it reminds me of what I lack.

Why girl must you stare back at me, with such sad, sad eyes?
You're a mirror of the pain I've been going through, an image of my pain in disguise.
As the lyrics flow off of the page, and the melodies fade softly away from your lips,
I know that you are like me, given nothing but worthless chips.
Chips to cast and play, in the game called life,
While others play the game, with cards to avoid tremendous pain and strife.

Why do you sing this soul-tearing song with me?
Each lyric is a ballad to the pain I've come to need.
We're all alone right now, in the emptiness of our despair,
Perhaps this pain we're singing about was always meant for us to bear.

Out of any song that is beautiful, heartfelt, and melodic,
We chose the song that we can sing, sounding somewhat neurotic.
Perhaps this pain is a twisting trail, like the notes on our page,
or the words, leaving our lips as we stand together on stage.

When our song is over, maybe the pain will subside,
fading away into the lyrics, we can try to lock away and hide.
Our past is tortured and haunted by the remnants of what could have been,
But that's all been put away now, leaving us closer than ever, true friends.
I'll never do you wrong; I swear it on the notes that leave my lips, the tugs I feel pulling on my heart.
You've hurt me and I've hurt you; that was our tormented start.

Maybe we don't have to hide in these lyrics anymore, maybe we can hide in each other, opening up another door.

A door for happiness; a door for new found pain.
We'll never heal these wounds that have damaged us, leaving us broken and stained.
The best we can do is cover up the pain,
Masking it with something, that hurts somewhat the same.

There is a vacancy in my heart,
One that tears me apart.
A vacancy in my soul,
A gaping, ghastly hole.

I am shoveling things into the spot,
Oh how resiliently I have fought.
Yet the world does not see me suffer,
Its forces in response become tougher.

I am tempted to taste forbidden fruit,
Dagger, pills, then dresses and suits.
Solemnly bowed heads, grieving eyes,
A weeping woman whom I despise.

Alas, I would not see these things,
These awful things that funerals bring.
Like ants from the woodwork they'd appear,
As if they ever cared about my fear.

Mommy, drink another beer.
Go ahead and do it.
Mommy, cast another leer.
You will regret it.

A new name,
A new face,
A new life,
A new place.

Conversion from weak to strong,
From bashful to brave,
From damaged to whole,
To master from slave.

I can alter my hair color,
Pop in colored contacts;
Look for every method
Of physical change to enact.

Underneath I will be the same,
Underneath I will not change,
So I wonder whether it's worth it,
This extreme, sudden exchange.

To change my image is
Not to change my soul;
But I wish that it would
Banish the cold.

I find often that my words are empty
Like a heart barren of love.
Isn't it funny that we only care about ourselves?
That's all that humans think of.

My voice is this tool
That I use to manipulate my circumstance;
To please others,
Lie about my stance.

It's so dangerous for me to be honest,
In a house full of monsters.
I'll tell you that it often seems
That my heart will burst.

But its not because my heart is empty,
I definitely have love,
But it's never returned to me,
I'm just something to get rid of.

Rose petals flutter in the wind, as if the air is kissing them.
But black ink spreads through the petals as they fly.
The flowers are dead, and the evil is boundless.
Beautiful things are corrupted so easily.

He was a boy of weakened steel,
Pain and anguish he often would feel.

But he loved a boy, who centered him here,
Who coaxed him through love and soothed his fears.

And that same boy often wondered,
If he deserved—by such love—to be thundered.

But then he realized he felt the same,
Felt that he was insignificant, deserved all blame.

But that defines love, in one specific way,
Through tragedies and heartbreak, it never sways.

And though it can be battered, and bruised by life,
True love survives all of that strife.

The boy’s heart was incredibly sore,
But he can now label that time of his life “before”.

“Before” he found him and fell in love,
“Before” he knew that safety was a dove.
“Before” he knew that dove was a boy,
One with, whom, his life could unfurl.

The tears streamed from your eyes
Like salty rivers on a quest;
They poured to the ground,
As your secret you confessed.

Your mother held her breath,
Stared at you with kindling, rampant rage;
"You are not a ******* boy,
This is just a phase."

She hides you from me,
Separating us from the intimacy that held us together;
Prevents us from experiencing our love in person,
It is so tender.

The days are passing,
You are hurting inside;
She insults you, blames you,
For being a girl who lies.

The knife inches toward you throat,
Your fingers aching to seal your fate;
But baby, look toward me,
It is never too late.

Hold onto this passion as if it
Is the very water to quench your thirst;
The very food to satiate your appetite,
Fulfill your mirth.

Boy of mine,
Your heart is pure.
Eventually you can slam
In her face the door.

Just hold on,
Take deep breaths;
Self-harm isn't a solution,
Neither is death.

In a dream,
I saw his face
I knew he was
A boy to chase.
Heart of gold,
Eyes so kind.
The kind of guy
It's hard to find.

There are a million ways,
A person you love,
Can break your heart.

Promises are meant to be broken,
That's what they always say.
But my face is always soaken,
With the tears I've shed today.

If promises don't last,
Then why am I living?
It means that my entire past,
Wasn't worth the giving.

Living day to day is stressful,
When happiness evades you.
Nothing seems to fill this hole,
That leaves my feelings askew.

Broken promises are meant to be,
Or perhaps never to have been said.
Now after all the pain, I see,
What should've stayed in my head.

This sense of dread,
Creeps through my mind,
Like a fire burns a forest,
Leaving nothing behind.

An unknown future,
A painful past;
Yet I cannot live in the moment,
For it moves too fast.

All that I crave,
Is a version of peace.
To break painful bonds,
For sorrow to cease.

But burned in the flame,
My mind has become mad.
Only ashes remain,
My solitary emotion is "sad".

My existence is frightening.
At night, I cannot sleep.
There can be no redemption,
Nor demons to reap.

No end is in sight,
To this constant tumolt.
No one to blame,
For it is only my fault.

So along this unending road,
I will go forever.
Shackled by my pain,
Tied to this endeavor.

I'm ready to go the mile,
Delve deeper into loving you,
Despite life's troublesome tiles.

By no means is our relationship perfect,
Because like anything worth having,
It possesses some defects.

The difference between love and infatuation,
However,
Is sticking together through calamity and elation.

We're unorthodox, I know it's true,
But no one can get me like you do.

Hold my hand forever,
Until our lights go out,
And the dust settles.

The months pass by
Like calendar pages flipping;
But as they move,
Some of them are ripping.

My heart grows more resilient
As the years fly;
But the grief isn't fading,
Just becoming a little shy.

The world that you provided
Was blissfully superior to this;
That world and you
I wholeheartedly miss.

The fighting is not over,
The silent, pleas of terror are rampant;
Confrontation is not over,
For the cries of the innocent cease to be absent,

No, the struggle is not over,
For little children starve each day.
The struggle has not ceased,
When people die for being gay.

The struggle is not OVER,
There is much change to come!
What do you not understand?!
Let us no longer be numb!

Do not give up on improvement,
Do not think change is done;
We've just begun this
Long and strenuous run.

Change tonight,
To ensure safe flight;
Safe movement from one phase,
Safe travel to the next place.

My mind morphs often,
A single reason remains unpinned.
Whether it's to survive more nights,
Or the worst of fights.

I change to survive,
To essentially revive,
Myself, to train
The way my mind handles pain.

I change, it's a sad fact,
But we're all born upon this pact;
That we'll be forced to change,
In little ways to keep survival in range.

I weep for the boy who is dead,
Now, all of this unknown from his head,
Wow, if I only I could envision,
A life without this derision.

The boy who lacked it is
Gone from the earth;
And this shell was
Birthed.

To replace something that was pure,
Because the boy could take no more.

Christmas isn't so great this year,
With Mommy addicted to beer,
And her son full of fear,
Scared of her drunken leer,
And angry jeer.

Rain, pain, sun, moon,
Grass, love, the sky at noon.

Poets often echo the most popular of themes,
Because these things are common it seems.
It's not bland to bleed what life delivers,
Onto paper, pen moving, ink flowing, a river.

It's especially beautiful when someone can write,
About these things in a captivating new light.
So don't shy away from popular themes,
In life, these things are common, it seems.

She passed through his life
Like wind rustling the leaves,
Dropping some of them to the ground;
The boy bowed his head to grieve.

The furnace in his heart had been too hot,
And when left untended,
Began to consume him from the inside out,
Unable to be mended.

She was a rocky river,
And he was a pitiful sail boat,
Battered apart by the water and
Unable to float.

The leaves showered down upon the ground,
A beautiful rivulet accompanied by sad sound.

Crimson leaves that grew too weak to cling to tree,
Leaves that gave up and then flew free.

The tree is you, the leaves, your tears,
Caused by your demons and your fears.

I am here.
I am here.
No more tears.
No more tears.

Our obstacles are no burden,
They revolve around serious issues;
Baby, it is okay to cry,
Here are some tissues.

Every couple fights,
That is very true,
But I promise to be collected
Through and through.

Here are some tissues,
It is okay to cry,
Wipe your face
So your eyes will dry.

Lean on me now and forever,
Here is my shoulder,
Lean on it always,
While our love grows older.

How bold it is;
Cease it shall not,
For love is something
That cannot be taught.

It flourishes on its own;
Then it must be maintained.
However, it is the type
Of thing that could never fade.

Here are some tissues,
It is okay to cry,
Wipe your face,
So your eyes will dry.

Resolutions hold great importance
In our mortal lives;
But we do not need to wait
Until December 31st to thrive.

Resolve daily to better yourself,
Inch toward being who you are destined to be;
Choose to improve your flaws and
Never settle until you fulfill this plea.

Progress is everything,
For who would want to live, then fall,
Only to realize
They never lived at all.

The world doesn't cater,
Neither does it care;
Each has his own
Cross to bear.

Society vomits on those
Who express emotion;
It laughs in their faces,
"What a silly notion!"

Display uniqueness,
That's a terrible crime;
You'll become the target of belittlement,
Your pain to pass the time.

Messed up world,
Messed up creatures;
These are some of the
World's features.

There is hope,
There is a chance;
Throw off the hate,
Dance the dance.

Dare I write a poem, claiming God doesn't exist?
I admit sometimes that faith is missed.
Sometimes I lie awake, ponder the past,
Wonder why my belief didn't last.

Then I remember what I was forced to see,
The memories of abuse that still bleed.
I remember my polluted childhood,
How it bore very little good.

I think of cancer in children, and natural disasters,
Supposedly the plans of a loving master.
I think of ****, ******, and child abuse,
Suicidal kids hanging from nooses.

Science motivates my disbelief to a certain extent,
But other than that, I refuse to be content.
I can't follow a "loving creator" who fails to care,
A "loving creator" who is never there.

Don't have a flame,
Have a bonfire.
Don't have a spark of power,
Create an empire.

Don't sing a note,
Croon a ballad.
Don't dance a move,
Reanimate those pallid.

Don't stop because you can,
Don't stop at all.
Turn this message
Into your motto and call.

Swish of the curtain,
Click of the light.
Darkness envelops,
Ensues the night.

When I plug in my headphones,
Put on my favorite track,
I sink away from reality,
As I kick my legs up and lean back.

As I cradle a book in my hands,
Laugh, cry, and just live
Through the literature,
Adventures it gives.

Everything I do has the purpose of
Pulling me away from this harsh landscape,
Of which I have no control,
I'm impossible to elate.

But these hobbies give me wings,
Make my heart sing.

Everything you touch will die,
Everyone you love will cry.
To be associated with you is pain,
There is nothing to be gained.

To be miserable is to embrace you,
No matter what I try to do.
Self-harm is hidden from your sight,
For you love this awful plight.

One day it will change,
Happiness is within range.
I need to last until that time,
When the exit bell will chime.

I will be gone like those you have lost,
For you have ruined me with frost.
Unlike those who have died,
My departure will be a chosen ride.

My fear complements your addiction,
For it controls me in such a way;
You have had me under your palm
From the very first day.

It is a terrible thing, to live with trauma,
And to relive that trauma on a daily basis;
I have discovered, mother,
That you have many faces.

Feelings of fear,
Coincide with confusion;
The thoughts won't leave,
The anxiety won't loosen.

Feeling every emotion,
And also feeling none;
Finger itches for a blade,
Or the trigger of a gun.

My mind is screaming,
The sound, a guttural wail;
But like my scarce hope,
My lips so often fail.

Father fell for fancy,
And announced amorousity.
Today, though, transferred to tree,
He held hope, heedlessly.

Enough, eight eves exit.
Rejoice - rather, reap retrophilia.

It's time to take control,
And announce my resistance to fear;
I'm not afraid of the monsters,
The demons, the memories, the beer.

Place my hand on my life,
And squeeze it tight,
Command it,
Turn this struggle into a fight.

I'm not fear's *****,
Not anymore,
That's the past,
I shut the door.

I'm not going cold,
Like I've done before,
When long nights,
Meant submission and more.

Refusing fear,
No longer will I wince,
At your leer;
Instead, I will meet you,
Serve you,
The things you do.