Who am I what am I meant to be  
Such wild things of course
That part of me is nature but
What am I meant to be
I could pretend to be things that wander wither and die
Or the things that see and are alive
I sit alone with leafs falling upon me
Some red some orange some even black
Would I want to be a leaf
I sit on grass and wonder
Why grass yellows wilts and dies
Then come summer and is alive
Would I want to be the grass
A tree a tree maybe
It does not die nor does it see
Would I want to be a tree
An animal maybe a wolf or a coyote
Would I like to be a bird
A red robin or a black bird
I can pretend to be almost any thing
But what am I a wanderer a pretender
A human a beast a flower with out a bloom
Or am I just a pretender
That can be almost anything
Then I know just what I am
I am the pretender of the land

I stand alone I am alone
But the shadow is not my own
I am alone I stand alone
The shadow on
The wall
A written dream
Can seem to be
Just a shadow on the wall
Beaconing to you from me and to all who can see
Do you see the shadow of me
purposely it is from me it can only be
Shadow poetry
Lingering
In the words I speak
And it hurts you see  I can only be the
Shadow on the wall
And in the night
I am hidden to thee
For you cannot see me
I am just
A shadow on
The wall

Take away the pain an the sorrow
Take away the happy tomorrow
It's all the same
You can't have it both ways
Take this blade take this fate
You can't escape now
It's to late
Cause all of this is your fate
Now run away if you can
Or come along it's your friend
All this is all that I can take
Caving in its way to late
For debate
This is my fate
Dreams die
In front of my eyes
But all of this it's way to late
Take it all take my fate take my pain
It's to late but I could not hear the snow flakes
Falling and falling
Falling down
Surrounding my sorrow
I'm drowning now
Were all suffocating
It all burned down
Playing the victim
I am no victim
I did not chose this
Let it all burn down
This is my fate it's way to late
Playing the victim
This is my fate
wait for tomorrow
This is my fate
It's way to late
Just
Take away the pain an the sorrow
Take away my happy tomorrow
Though I don't want the sorrow
I guess I will give my tomorrow

Poems that's what we call them
But really their bits and pieces of our pain and suffering
Our grief and agony
Our love and sorrow
Our hate
They are a way to call out
to scream I'm hurting
But all they say is 'wow that's pretty'
No that's not what I needed to hear
My poems are not pretty
They're my pain and agony
Poems that's what we call them
But for me it's a way to call out
To scream help me.

The snow it falls silently,
The wind it blows quietly,
The night is cold,
My heart the same,
Thank the snow,
For numbing the pain,
Ice it forms slowly,
On the sad lonely lake,
The moon it shines brightly,
But I think it's fake,
Fake like the smile on my face,
My tired eyes they see no light,
My heart so weak and fragile like ice,
I never get cold my skin is snow,
I hate the sun, the bright happy sun,
I love the dark,
I love the new moon,
The dark moon,
So I can look into the sky,
And see nothing,
The abyss almost as empty as me,
I smile truly because,
When you look into the abyss the abyss looks into you,
And I know it see's nothing.

I am nothing
I look into the mirror
I see a monster in the mirror
I am empty there is nothing left
I hate the monster in the mirror
I have a void
I smash the mirror
To **** the monster
Then suddenly I feel nothing
I look down and see
That the monster is me
I am nothing

With steady hand
And watchful eye
Create what's in your mind
Fly
Be free
Go with it, your tool
Don't be a fool
What you create is yours
No one else's
So don't let them tell you it's ugly
Don't change for them
Be you
Be free
Create art
Be the artist you know you are
Be free and draw