Don't ******* a writer.
Her thoughts will be validated upon paper,
her eyes will cry tears of ink that sink into the pages forming words never quite forgotten,
your past together will be an anthem to young girls who suffer in the same,
when she spits out her blood soaked poetry the guilt will drive you insane.
Don't. ******* a poet
Because at three thirty in the morning she will write an angry piece about how perfect your eyes looked when the rain splattered your windshield, how your kind words melted the barricade, and when you were safely inside you lit a match, just to see how many things would catch
Dont break a poets heart,
it will not break her pen and when she sends the message across the web of how you hurt her,
the sound will resonate across the night clubs and everyone will know you shattered her like good china, smashed underfoot by a mad man, tension she couldn't bare, and drunk text messages unsent about how much she cares.

We, were an unfinished painting the artist got bored with, A Mona Lisa on an etch sketch,
you curled yourself around me and tucked yourself underneath my tongue,
you said when I smiled your limbs came undone, and you fell in love with me every time I sung to you,
well maybe I should have sung louder, because my message is now falling on deaf ears,
I want to hear the words, I need you, I want to see you, I miss you.
Instead I'm glued to my screen trying not to send you hate mail so obscene,
I never meant to get this attached to you, and maybe that's why you're running away.
If I asked you to stay would you bother? Or just run faster?
I promised myself I wouldn't write a poem about you, because if I did that I would have to open my mouth,
and I'm scared now that you've jumped out, and have found safety in another girls arms, how did I not realize this would cause me harm, I never wanted to fall for you.
Don't make empty promises, to poets.
We will never forget, because we produce the highest form of lies known to man, I can make words in languages you'll never understand, but with a flick of my hand and the right stance I could make you fall in love with me after the second glance. So don't try to lie to a writer, buddy I've been there. You think hearing "I hate you." hurts wait until you wake up to.
"Your eyes make mine want to bleed, your voice crackles up my spine, and shake me to the core. Every time you look at me I think of how many different ways I could feed your organs to starving children in Africa. Your pancreas I'd send to Guam, your heart to Ethiopia. Lead you into the depths of hell and keep you locked up. In case I wanted to play with you later, no. I'm not bitter, what makes you say that."
Or better yet, imagine waking up to silence. I cannot speak for my words are numb to the bubble of hatred in my centre. If I let it escape I will never stop screaming, I've been meaning to tell you that I could never regret anything we've done together.

In my oppion you all deserve a light everyday for your poetry.
They can be beautiful while revealing your hurts and suffering.
Or be beautifully written by you and the Christ together here.
Just as Brandon, Alyssa, Catherine, Gary,FJ Davis, Leeann. Mark.and Paul.
Plus so many other great authors of these beautiful poems.
Or write dark but beautiful poems as I said before my friends.
Just as Elsa, dark and beautiful, Wolf among others thank you.
Or just write beautiful poems with no intended purpose.
Just as Rye,VOD, Dash Switchblade,John Steven, and Pax.
I appreciate you all, for all of your inspiration and encouragement.

"You are so deep in your thoughts you could die drowned by them."

I heard it in my youth, and I've heard it once again.
You banish it away, it always comes back again.
Pain, they say, will always make you stronger.
Then when it hurts, why can't I live any longer?

Pain is not supposed to strengthen your soul.
Only your mind it strengthens "and" it leaves a hole,
And that hole is filled with poison to dull the pain,
And that poison will weaken you, like acid rain.

Apparently what you don't know won't hurt you.
That's right. It only hurts everybody else... "true".
People who eventually hurt you another way.
You'll tell them, "Go away, come again another day."

"It doesn't **** you." "Only cats have nine lives."
Because I'm aware of the multiverse, these knives,
Called dysfunctional lovers, friendships, and family,
Have killed me a thousand times; I live candidly.

I live honestly, because the pain of seeding a lie,
Can grow a thorny bush, upon seeing it you cry,
When you're pricked by the destruction of all,
Your chaos, wondering why you don't get a call.

Pain is good for lessons, that's why it's all around,
It's not that you're getting strong, only wiser.
Pain brings you to your knees, makes you touch ground,
For the power, you are weaker, only wiser.

The demons come in darkest night
To take your soul away.
They keep your body locked up tight
And then they start to play.
The vampires dance, the monsters fight
The werewolves howl ‘til day,
And your soul is left in shiv’ring fright.
At least, that’s what they say.

When demons come in blackest moon
To steal you from your home.
It’s always best to lock your room
And stay at home alone.
Who knows what horrid creatures’ tomb
May come for you and your bones?
So, lock your door and pray for noon,
For night’s when monsters roam.

If demons come when moonlight beams
And you aren’t quite home yet,
Oh traveler, beware the screams;
It’s you they’ve come to get.
And pray that nothing’s as it seems
And that it’s still sunset.
For, when moon is out all horrid things
Walk freely, as they’re let.