reading poems has been my hobby
writing them was my escape
posting them was my pride
and being liked has been my accomplishment

i write poems to let loose what's within
to express what's been hiding
to utter things indirectly
to those concerned but never bothered

this is my haven
a secret place in times i am feeling forlorn
away from the real world
that brings nothing but hurt

when a stir inside occurs
that's a call for you to scribble
be able to jot anything
and be released from the excruciating pain

I confess to be terrified
of the tears across the lines
of collecting wasted time,
left in a room full of ghosts.

the spine of this book has broke
and the edges you tucked away
now broken off, leaving frayed
illusions, that this was how it
was. how it's always been.

Trying to fade

Can’t see any shade

These bushes in front

Hide uttered prompt

Two steps forward

To say I’m not a coward

Three steps backward

Not to be awkward

Hush your pad

So no one will be mad

Do you know what I mean?

Hope you discern your resembling din.

What is in my head, is my buisness.
Unless I tell you, then its our buisness,
but not the buisness of those around us.
Same goes for you.
What you don't tell me, I don't need to know.
What you do tell me, Is your buisness alone.
Not hers, his, or theirs.
Your secrets are safe with me.
I've learned my lesson before.
Telling nobody, is better than telling all,
because it saves confusion in the end.

heaven is full of windows

Bittersweet and diabolical is fate
A selfish want for a little bit more
Hands are trembling
Tensions are flaring,
but refuse to beg for the rest of life

Will this be the conclusion?
Truth was known
Morals have vanished
What was the error made?

No promises that the past,
won't keep biting
Fight back
With all one's might
Let go of the things known,
If they don't mean anything
Don't return to where you come from

Hate cannot create
One's ticket home