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The world is made of a malleable substance; that can be sculpted
Like clay and stone
Your hands and your soul
A beautiful story unfolds

death is a sneaky person
he can snake tendrils into the folds of your brain
while you stare at a blank page
hoping the slithering in your head
is inspiration begging to be let into the empty space

the time between was a constant crime
perjury over and over to a jury of past selves
the slithering I felt at 14 became a buzzing by 21
and at 23, could cause hearing damage
I had to scream my inner monologue
just to hear myself

death and I walked together
and soon, his grip on me
transformed into my grip on him
holding on tight to what he promised me
"death," I spoke to my longest friend,
"won't you take me soon?"

those words became breakfast on hard days
lunch on long days
until it was dinner every night

I finally had the courage to look him in the eyes
so that I might see who I adored so dearly
his grip loosened on me to take down his hood
and I saw the life I hadn't led
every promise I never kept
every cut that ever bled
I saw a quiet somber in death's eyes
and I realized I had to let him go

with a sad smile,
I indulged my old confidante
and promised to live until he was ready
to walk together again.

I’m hurting
I know your just doing it because you think it’s “for my own good”
But it isn’t and I hate it when you restrict me from everything that makes me happy
maybe you should try being less of a overprotective parent instead of trying to make me perfect

You wear leather
As dark as your heart
You speak words
As sharp as a knife

You smell of cigarettes
And sometimes cologne
You wreak of Jack Daniel's
But mostly depravity

You lurk in the shadows
And prey on the young
You desire a girl
But only one night

You tell her your lies
To trick her to stay
And then like a coward
You run away

He doesn't burn photographs
He doesn't join therapy sessions
He doesn't smoke too many cigarettes
Nor he drown himself into alcohol
He scratches his wounds daily
And never let them heal
He doesn't try to get rid of the pain
Instead he let it grow on him
He waters the seed of sorrow with his tears
He feeds it with the manure of old memories
He takes it to sleep with him
And nurtures it in himself
Till the moment when every single drop of his blood gets replaced by this pain
Until his fragile heart can bear no more
And his soul starts overflowing with emotions
That's when he dip his pen into this pain
And empty his heart on a piece of paper
He bares his soul for us to feel
He creates poetry that the world would cherish for centuries to come

We may have the same eye's
but I use mine differently

We may have the same heart
but I use mine differently

I'm Different cause I do things differently
I'm different cause I wear things differently

I may stand out differently in many ways
but I love it
and I love being different

I Am Different