Half of wreckless,
Half of greedy,
Half of anger,
Half of needy.

Half a God,
Other, mortal,
A gateway for two,
For worlds, I'm a portal.

Don't know who I am,
Useless, I've always felt,
Blood is shed among them,
As currency, death is dealt.

Teenage love,
Is a sensation,
Filled with irrationality,
And temptation.

No way on earth,
Am I romantic,
Nor am I "in love,"
But I have become frantic.

I told this one guy,
That I might . . . you know,
And the fact I won't say it,
Just goes to show . . .

The awkwardness I felt,
Telling a guy, friends for a year,
And being friend-zoned twice,
By someone I hold dear.

It wasn't easy,
Not even in the slight,
And the conversation ended,
With him saying goodnight.

Granny says the sky doesn’t end
We just decide when to stop searching
No idea what she means.

Here I am,
Away from home,
Surrounded,
But on my own.

I'll live out here,
Until it's time,
To go back home,
To what is mine.

It's my duty,
My obligation,
To be here for,
This relocation.

It feels like years,
This is my void,
But here I am,
I was deployed.

The only people that fear death
are those that have not lived
satisfactory lives.

This tear falls,
Leaving a trace,
Leaving a scar,
On my weary face.

What's done is done,
Now, you can't go back,
Inside, where my heart was,
Now it's black.

All this destruction,
Was caused by you,
The damage was assessed,
And it needs more than glue.

You can't cover it,
Not even with a bandaid,
Nothing can hide the harm,
Of this heart-breaking blade.

The wound merely grows,
As the days pass by,
So, now would be a good time,
To say goodbye.

Racing through
Jumping around
My sickened mind

Is anybody there,
I whisper to my room,
Where I sit and wait,
For my lonely doom.

Is anybody there,
Please let there be,
I can't stay alone,
Please stay with me.

Is anybody there,
Because if you are,
I've been searching,
Long and far.

Is anybody there,
But there's no reply,
No one is here,
To watch me cry.

There is no one there,
Now I know,
No one is here,
To watch my show.

Waving at me,
Far, far away,
My shadow stares,
It strikes midday.

Feline reflexes,
It moves with me,
Without a single,
Discrepancy.

My shadow nears,
Showing her claws,
And showing me,
All of my flaws.

A boy so sweet,
Only a boy is he,
But Tom, sweet Tom,
And his tomfoolery.

A washed away pillar of salt and sediment.
Broken by the breaking waves that crash upon its side.
In and out and in again, moving with the tide.

Compensation,
A man's frustration,
A horrid creation,
Feels like truncation.

Sometimes I sit,
Staring at my reflection,
Noticing every minor,
Flaw and imperfection.

A mirror is an opposite,
A flip of reality,
A twisted, woven lie,
Of our actuality.

What we do not see,
On a mirror's face,
Is the flipped perfection,
We yearn to showcase.

We only notice what is wrong,
Never what seems right,
And that is a mirror's fault,
Altering our sight.

But it is just a mirror,
A mere, flipped reflection,
But everyone is filled,
With inner human perfection.

Waves stagger,
Tall and high,
Horizon blocked,
Ripples fly.

Eyes of a snake,
Slithering near,
Symbolizing terror,
Showcasing fear.

Sneaking quietly,
To unsuspecting mates,
Changing the course,
Of everyone's fates.

Firsthand experience,
For this sort of thing,
Comes with time,
And a heart on a string.

Holding your heart,
Away from you,
Protecting it from hurt,
Until you know what's true.

Hypocrisy strikes,
With an iron blade,
But the pain,
Will never fade.

It's not the concept,
Of hypocrisy alone,
But when someone uses it,
It rattles the bone.

Whether intentional,
Or just misunderstanding,
The darkness is left,
To continue expanding.

Eyes of a snake,
A crime to commit,
The story of,
A hypocrite.

This is simple,
I promise you,
That to my word,
I will be true.

It's easy,
Simple as pi,
3.1415,
Step up, don't be shy.

Don't back down now,
You're in too deep,
Keep pushing through,
And you'll play to keep.

This is simple,
I promise you,
So believe in yourself,
You'll have a breakthrough!

I'm a writer,
Of the night,
Shying away,
From bright light.

I work at my best,
When no one's around,
So I can write,
In peace, no sound.

This may seem odd,
And it is, really,
But I like to write,
And often, ideally.

But that's not how it goes,
I can't write every day,
Sometimes there's no spark,
And it won't go my way.

But when I get going,
I will not go to bed,
As the night is my ally,
A mate, a good friend.

I prefer the darkness,
It gives me better sight,
This doesn't make sense, but,
I'm a writer of the night.

A tattoo is more,
Than a blotch of ink,
A drawing on skin,
Is more than you think.

Regardless of what,
Your tattoo may depict,
The fine illustration,
Isn’t just what you picked.

It is a symbol,
Of humans alive,
And how permanency,
Is all that we strive.

But a tattoo fades,
And we do as well,
Tattoos share a secret,
That man cannot tell.

Just, before you fade away,
Tell humanity to **** it,
And go live your life,
Before you kick the bucket.

A lost love is,
A loosened grip,
A stumble, a fall,
A slip, or a trip.

A lost love is,
A tear down your cheek,
A heart so bland,
A soul so bleak.

A lost love is,
A downcast day,
A maze of misery,
A wall hiding the way,

A lost love is,
Though unwanted, there,
And for it's arrival,
We can never prepare.

In the bushes,
A man sits still,
A hole in his heart,
He yearns to fill.

By causing this pain,
On unsuspecting deer,
Causing their strife,
Sharing his fear.

How he does this,
Is poetic, at least,
Vicious and blood-thirsty,
This man's feast.

His heart is punctured,
So he punctures them,
With a bullet,
Sharp as a gem.

So he sits in bushes,
Before he announces,
His presence among them,
Then . . . he pounces.

I'm crazy,
I'm weird,
I'm whack,
I'm feared.

Unnoticed,
But seen,
Invisible,
I've been.

I get these looks,
Though, what do they mean,
I haven't a clue,
But they're rather obscene.

I am an attraction,
That wasn't meant to be,
I've learned that I,
Just shouldn't be me.

A dilemma before a donkey,
Between two hay bales,
Teasing, tantalizing,
To choose, he fails.

Sitting and dying,
Perishing of thirst,
Because he couldn't decide,
Which bale to eat first.

A paradox they say,
Is this idea of free will,
A paradox they say,
Is capable to ****.

The hay is tantalizing him,
Tearing him to shreds,
Causing him to stand and watch,
The hay bales, 'til he's dead.

Focus on the present,
I try to tell myself,
Do it for your future,
And your current health.

The past is in the past,
Focus here and now,
I try so very hard,
But I don't know how.

I keep looking back,
Over my shoulder,
And time just passes by,
And I just grow older.

I don't know how to forget,
Or rather, not to dwell,
I'm struggling to escape,
The hole in which I fell.

Life is racing by me,
It's going much too fast,
But I guess it'll keep going,
Because I can't ignore the past.

Kept under surveillance,
Under lock and key,
Something for safekeeping,
Special, just for me.

I keep it under wraps,
Secret, hidden away,
Saved for someone special,
For a very special day.

No one can see,
Before I deem them fit,
For the thing I hold dear,
So, deal with it.

About this thing,
I care too much,
To let some commoner,
Feel its touch.