I don’t get it, I may never really know
Why doesn’t anyone love me?
They’re gone when the wind blows

I want to be happy
For my friends who are in love
The happy couples holding hands
They fit just like a glove

But I’m selfish
Why not me!
Why am I always alone?
Sitting, waiting by the phone

I’m not so bad
I’m really not
Who am I convincing?
I know I’m not that hot

I don’t think I’m that ugly
Not the greatest beauty by far
I’m getting older day after day
Lines and wrinkles are my scars

So alone I am
Get over it!
No one wants me
I might as well quit

My heart will ache
Till the day I die
I have no more tears
My eyes are dry

They found her body;
At the bottom of the ravine.
Said she jumped in the night,
that she never looked back.

I wonder if anyone ever understood her,
I wonder if they even knew her.
Did they know she was hurting?

They did not care that she was gone.
They closed the case and called her dead,
A text book suicide, no victims remained.
Call the morgue and have her tagged.

I wonder if they knew,
About all those she hurt when
she died and left them behind.

Comfort the sobbing parents,
Watch her sibling misunderstand,
Send the family away,
And never think of her again.

I think happiness is when you find someone walking the same speed as you.

I'm stressed

I'm tired

I'm paranoid as ****

and all because of these *Final (*******) Exams

why** do this to others
bully? just because you're hurt you needn't to make others hurt
just get everyone to feel your pain right?!
because of all you've done, people watch you differently
you're a HYPOCRITE you don't enjoy being hurt but you hurt others
hurting? I know its not nice to be hurt so don't hurt others

.
A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's the tears that trickle with radiance through words.
     It's a treasure trove that hides but longs to
     be found.
          It's a book shelved high that wants to
          be read.
               It's the freest of all birds caged but
               unbound...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't beat to the capable strokes of the artist.
     It doesn't pump in the most vibrant of
     colours.
          It doesn't wield a paintbrush to
          translate its thoughts.
               But it can see through the eyes of
               painters...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't conform to the conventional parameters of lyrics.
     It doesn't bind itself to the requirements
     of musical harmony.
          It doesn't follow the conventions of
          genres.
               But it sings its voice loud without
               restrictions of melody...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's an open secret, that whispers in metaphoric codes.
     It's an exploding universe, that merges
     back into galaxies.
          It's a sought after painting, that boasts
          of unfathomable beauty.
               It's an everlasting song, that echoes
               within the poet that embodies...