When did I become so bitter?
Used to be the guy seeing a bag and pick up the litter,
now I watch it blow by,
less of a smile and more of a sigh,
my kid, my teenage self would never want to be this guy,
singing loudly used to be a habit,
now I just write sad poems on a laptop or tablet,
not the type you come to,
because all my colors are gone cept for blue,
what happened to you?
when did I become so sad?
instead of always seeing good,
now its just all bad,
not optimistic nor real,
just writing to make me feel,
but it doesnt help like i need it,
I used to finish a poem and sigh off the ****,
but now I'm consumed bit by bit,
by this world,
by my life,
by my past,
used to smile while finishing last,
dreaming was a hobby and I would want to sleep,
now I run away from dreams and stay awake till the alarm goes beep
when did I get so bitter?
used to take care of drunk friends like a sitter,
now the days are gone and I'm drinking alone,
waiting by the phone,
but not answering the call,
I used to see girls and feel my heart stall,
and smile when they looked my way,
now their eyes look and say,
what happened to you?
Why am I so bitter?

Christmas Eve gets easier,
to go to bed,
every year

In my trench and freezing cold,
saw a guy get his helmet shot when he stood up a bit feeling bold,
still alive but has a  wound,
I should be back in hometown with mum and pop,
eating turkey,
but instead I get this slop,
My adrenaline has been going for two weeks and its starting to wear,
but sleep I do not dare,
no man's land is all I will see,
and my dead friends welcoming me,
I start to nod into sleeping fright,
but again I fight,
I start to hear singing from across the field,
delusions I yield,
but again I hear,
and every now and then a cheer,
all drained of fear,
I pop my head up and see the Germans singing,
Christmas carols ringing?
A mate next to me starts to sing the same tunes,
so I pick it up and more do,
we must be loons,
but the singing together goes all through the night,
British and Germans, ever the hard ***** are singing too,
in the morning a brave chap gets out of the trench,
walks across the field that has the death stench,
no fire comes upon him nor gas,
but a man from the otherside gets up and rushes to meet him fast,
I dont see what they are saying but they exchange cigarettes and matches,
then the peace hatches,
we all get up on both sides and go talk with our enemies from yesterday,
we only smile because there is nothing to say,
except today is Christmas and we both want to go home,
but tomorrow we will both be firing at each other alone,
a football game break out and our commanders are even smiling,
no order to pour into filing,
just smoking pipes and waiting for it to end,
we show each other pictures of our girls and what they send,
no longer two side,
but two humans that needed someone in to confide,
we shake hands and go back to our trenches,
sit on our poorly built benches,
and wait till tomorrow when we are no longer a son,
but enemies trying to **** each one.

I cant deny it,
another night of a lonesome fit,
craving to be in love with someone all over again,
but to craven to talk to a girl even then,
just wanting to not go through the steps,
at the same time I do,
I guess I am just a mess,
and fall in love with every girl that shows me the least bit of kindness,
or attention,
so I'll sit in my isolation detention,
dreaming of a girl who's face is gone every time I wake,
chasing an invisible girl for chasing's sake,
and this ****** big bed has teeth,
I just need some beautiful thief,
to steal some covers.

Going back to that empty house is my biggest fear,
walk in the door and everything gone,
and no cigarette smoke to make everything clear,
with no best friend and no running water, this isnt real its a con,
it has to be,
I'll pack as fast as I can just to get out to sea,
leave my small town and just leave,
but its never so simple for packing takes time,
and I'll tell myself everything will be fine,
but this anxiety is a stone in the bottom of my stomach,
that never stops rolling,
this is no home anymore just a doorway,
to a place that I can not stay,
so I'll run away as far as I can,
and all the memories from the past month from my mind I'll ban,
look back someday and think they wore better,
but by then happiness will hopefully be in my grasp or in within reach,
because I'll be serenading girls who dont know what I'm saying,
at the beach.

You kept changing from one door to the next,
I couldn’t reach you in time like every ex,
You’d step through a door and I would try to fallow,
But every room had been cleared and hallow,
I reached finally and grabbed your arm and looked in the eyes,
And you were beautiful,
But you said you need to go,
With eyes of hate and anger was now all you could show,
And to let to let go of her arm,
I begged you to please don’t,
And you said you wont,
My satellite ran into your semi in the sky,
And we both flew down to earth,
So I let go of your arm.

A spontaneous creation unmatched,
to create a conversation is not a  plan that can be hatched,
it happens without you know it had began,
and it ends and rebirths without knowing it can,
like a different show but all the actors the same,
it cant be loud nor tame,
but afterwords you feel proud,
because it happened,
and something inside of you was tapped in,
to be able to share something that is hard to do,
a spontaneous creation in lieu,
of you being human.