This will be the last poem I write. I'm done with poetry. I'm done with anything I was once was or had. It's time to start over. It's time to forget who and what I was. Because I've begun to hate who I am.
I wonder what it is like to be a g… Would I care what my hair looked… What I wear? What I say? How I… Would I scratch my nuts and pick… Would I kiss girls and stare at b…
I feel a way I have never felt be… More passionate and loving than th… I am content with who I am with y… I am shadowed from my past. You comfort me when I need none
Dearest memories Of deepest darkest secrets Sweet serenities Swimming through a blackened abyss A smile of cancer,
As I watch from the shadow I see your heart throb. Not a throb for love, Or joy, Or happiness.
Would you like me to write a poem… A poem about what is wrong? He is back and back with a vengean… A bloodcurdling anger has fueled. He visits me every day
Thinking back to where I’m from Who I could’ve been When we left were we wrong? What if I should’ve been.. That girl off the streets
This is it, My time to change, A chance for new life. I embrace you, my love Arms wide open
I know people that complain When they didn’t get that car Or that brand new phone. And when they do, I never hear them say
center I’m trapped in a dark room, No windows, No doors. I covered every inch with my bare…
I stare at the slightly lit ceilin… Trying to keep from sleep. I won’t let go because I’m terrif… Of what might come after me. I’m done with all of the nightmare…
I gather my tears up in a bottle a… Watching as it drifts away, perhap… Free of sadness, free of pain, fre… Freedom to sleep good dreams of ha… No more twitching, no more screami…
Most normal people can dream good… I guess that makes me abnormal. For I haven’t dreamt a good dream… Left to question my own moral. When it starts out good it falls a…
My name is one of common nature; you can find others like it around nearly every corner you turn. The meaning of the name varies by culture: some have said it means “Keeper of Keys” whi...
I am from the slums of Minneapoli… Crowded streets where colors diffe… Fists a fly, bottles in the air On this cold winter night. From mountains to magnificent pine…
I love the way you crack With such elegant and extraordinar… Splintering on the edges But strong and beautiful in the ce… I love tracing my fingers along yo…