My shadows are forbidden creatures that developed into monsters once they grown old.
They grow, like files in the winter and humans in the summer.
Catch me a shack break instead of a snack break.
I see the black pen you used on the page you bled out to.
The same page is lonely on this street full of cars and roads.
If the scenery was right,why didn’t you change it?
Let it become a simple imagination scheme to pull on the creatives.
The thing is I seem different, as if the vision I had didn’t crawl behind my back to take me down.
Take me out of this room and bled into the black and white candles on the table.


Sometimes I rise up from the counter, just to see your pretty face light up on my screen.
The screwdriver stuck into the hammer, but lights are all bright and exclusive.
I keep myself beyond the halls and wines of doors and *****-ups.
I see grownups with their kids and their kids running away from them as they grew up.
I see nothing of me inside of them, the kid who grew lost became unbearable.
I would never be unstoppable and automatical.
Watch this bar light up in the darkness.
See the drunks on the wall, haunting out of breathe.
Getting close to you, but then going away from the space.

I was never safe, you heard me?
You heard me once, now I’m talking backwards twice to make sure you exist in space.
The future is dulling and weightless as I carry it on my back a bit.
The same hit they filled with glue to target people, it ain’t the same as a shooter.
It ain’t the same thing as a casual wipe to the people who lived and the ones who died.
I give a sorry, and then cherish them until my very life.
In the world, I am to give sorrows to throw them away to become a different version of myself.
To seek the joy I never had, but I respect those people who fought to survive.
The people who live on now, the people who still live, the people.
No disrespect, if I wasn’t throwing your way.
I respect.

I didn’t tell you who I respect though.
I didn’t you just fell for it.
No, but nothing beyond what I can say.
What can I do if it is enabled to slaughter me in highness?
You’re my kindness, bleeding but I won’t erase the years of truth you laid upon my sides.
Got me with tape and handcuffs to be trapped in your ****** ways.

Hold your ideas.
Hold your breath.
Hold your space..
Hold it close before the chains rock away.
The turn signal becomes a warning of a breach of trust.
I trusted one, but another came and flew away.
To the lights, I have lost and glimpsed another trust.
The paper was once who I was in the world.
The space that keeps moving on from frame to frame.

I can bare that the world won’t survive without art.
Without poems or poetry of all kinds.
Of people’s sufferings mixed into the frame.
The art of all music is not ever forgotten.
Nor can it be restored, if one lost it.
I lost the drive to do things, the break to complain.
The opportunities I allow to slip up, all because I was me.
I was picking and choosing myself for all my stakes.
I saw my components and composure, filled the core of replacement.

The deep end of learning becomes an environment of survival.
A talent for coldness and a posture for numbing.
I wish you knew how I longed to stay.
How I change my journey path just to be far away.
Just to be distanced and framed on a wall far away from yours.
Ah. The breath I take isn’t the same with the smile plastured on my face.
The art I take away.
The puppets I bleed and pray under conditions.
Circumstances unchanged and mellowed through the walls.

I am an artist..
A walking skeleton.
A feather in feat of my actions. 
I am me..
A soulless bird.

I see you barely had to think of a title there.
There you go.
I see you and I see you.
Is that enough for channeling my inner fears?
My plausible thoughts that endlessly become overwhelming.
This is the detached version of reality.
The emotions that fog it up from day zero to day two.
As if I wished to be heard in the darkness, nothing I bare to happen there.

The turning point is the purpose of constant shadow figures.
The void I hear, hear ye.
The void I am.
The void becomes the pond I am.
Can I appreciate your soul once without crushing it on the keys of the desk?
Can I appreciate the soul you’ve given me, ever so dearly.
Desperately, chasing for love while you are chasing holes in your heart.
Love is love for the love is closely love and tied together is love.

Be in a hallway where the choices matter, but the comfort doesn’t.
It is uncomfortable to be the comfort of the confrontational.
Take a soul, and I’ll give you mine.
These pauses are cold, but soulless.

I wish these words could express the gift you’ve given me and the lessons I learned from you.
I wish this gift would help to express that.
Now I have no words to reach or remind me of that.
I wanted to give you peace even if pain is blinding your existence on the darkest days.
If my capacity for space is weighing you down.

It’s alright I’ll take a sorrowful look.
I’ll take anything, but a heart of yours.
I’ll take it, but never an ounce of forgiveness.
I won’t force nor will I seek forgiveness.
The sheer stupidity is that I regret the things I did to you.
I don’t beg for forgiveness or an apology.
I don’t beg.
I can’t fix this barrier or that I ruined you with my actions.

The actions I would call of a lost soul, like you.
The lost heart of yours.
The lost person of you.
Misunderstood, but torched as a burnt heart.
I thought that if I wrote such words maybe it wouldn’t matter.

If that was me, like you I would’ve burnt the words.
I could already find them inside of myself, but this isn’t about me.
It is about you and I apologize if I were to relate it would break in half.
The thing is I saw good and peace in you.
I saw you as a person I cared about and nothing can change the wrongs I put upon you.

I think that life teaches you to be better.
If you are half brokenhearted in a drenched letter.
If the room was silent and filled with tears.
If it was all over and laced up in a ribbon.
I wish you well.

No, I don't wish you well like that.
I hope you heal on your journey.
I hope that life stays good wherever you are in life.
I didn’t have to say this cause I cared.
I didn’t have to say it if I didn’t.
I didn’t have to give words.
I did it cause I care about your feelings.

Sometimes the voice isn’t being heard through a poorly built wall.
A system in place to keep one away and capture the lone wolves.
The breath beats to the other side of my heart and damage is done.
There is nothing to go back to bothersome or the words were infected.
Full of nothing, but careless actions from dismissive thoughts to destroyed bridges.

I burnt my bridges and my tongue from speaking to you.
Finding a voice of my own in these flowers is impossible if I’m burning inside.
If the flames never came back or held a special sacred place to death.
My picture frames of childhood was ripped out of the book and burned in the woods with the rest.
I forgot my old self and my old soul with poorly preserved to maintain the bones of one.
Child.

Cold and fostered.
Kept with the flesh and blood heartaches.
You made my heartache with a simple paper.
A simple word instead and the yellings of my actions.
I condemn you in my mind as not a good mother.
No near definition can be defined by how I feel or how you feel.
No words being said, only arguments not guaranteed of winning.
Coming out of the fight and choking on the rest.
The author proclaims the meaning from the sacred and the peace.

Told me to research a word definition on Google.
When the foul definitions represent the devil.
I repel that I won’t remain in the conscious part of your life.
The path you wanted me to take has ruins and marks into silver bones.
I stand deeply in my room being filled with peace instead of torture.
Sadness call it backwards in my feelings.
Ruined the heart of a child.

Words beyond my sentences are unreadable.
Misunderstood beyond the comprehension limit.
Give it a push and they fall into the water with no meaning.
No value or purpose in the world.
Doubt it makes a difference.
A trick to play on the reader.
To make them feel something about these words.
Beyond the capsule it is uncomprehending to read.
To create words that cry for help.

I’m too good at throwing words away.
Making them feel unseen if that’s how I truly feel.
How I truly hide my feelings disregard their existence.
Once setting something in this world it becomes visible.
Weighing deeply upon the heart.
These words are a catalyst to the balance that is held in-between them.

Sometimes I barely open the door up knowing it’s the words that pull me down.
It’s an unknown entity that positions their expectations on me.
Weighing me down and yet I feel blinded in their clouds.
While they look like normal clouds to me they are more than clouds.
A cold set a stone.
Time away from the break.
Philosophy is difficult in defeat.
Defend impending.
Soul crushing.

The drift from missing a piece of poetry to living my life casually indiscreetly.
It always questions myself, as the string leads nowhere but at the bottom of my balcony.
The settled tip of the moment that doesn’t involve people or loudly looking up.
Capturing the sky with a gentle hug and pulling from the counter.

I’m fond of moments where you don’t see creators, artists or writers constantly on their knees.
Knowing that people got their message straight directly centered around likes.
Sometimes the ingenious is noticed, but I don’t say anything.
They replay this message inside of your head wanting you to press the like button.
The obligation just hits a multitude of things that aren’t seen on the surface.

The tug and tap you see on each version of the screen.
The cold ability to notice the torture on the other side.
No say.