ThePoetThatDidntNoIt

Почему я чувствую себя таким образом? Мое сердце формоваться как глина. Они смотрят и спрашивают: "Как дела?" Де

This pain I feel is physical and mental. People think my heart is just a rental, And that mind is a part of their game. To those that are guilty, Leave me out of your picture frame. Let the pain eat me away. I've been used, Now my heart has a fray. They lied and abused, Now I'm the accused. I've found a path To shy away from the pain. To not be a psychopath. Keep me sane. Here's to another beer, To bring me happiness and cheer. Away from the pain. Lord, keep me from going down the drain.

Alone, with my drunken self. May another drink fall off the shelf, And keep me in this alcoholic state. After all, it is my family's fate. Love ruined by the can. Life is run by the middle man. No one will see me as special; My life won't be sentimental. Raise another drink And let my life sink. Don't worry about me. Let me continue with my idiosyncrasy.

Trapped inside is how I feel. Naked, cold, and ill. Lonely I am in the company of many. Never will I fulfill my destiny.

Nothing can fix it. What I did took a big hit. Nothing will work. The devil inside still lurks. If only you knew, What mind control can do to you. Why must everyone be so one-sided, And our minds be so divided. You think I lied About what I saw when I died. I failed at what I was set out to accomplish And instead relationships I did demolish.

Never will you know Of my heart in this loving inferno. Never will you know Of the happiness you bestow . Never will I know How your heart will grow. Never will I know How your thoughts flow.

You weren't ever in a dream. Although that it may seem, That this is new. I was shown before I even met you. The information you must never acquaint. At first sight I was going to faint. Is it verifiable? Or is it a dream? Fable? The woman not from my dream, But from God's scheme.

I've had many reasons To write my romance through the seasons. You changed that with your wide smile. It seems like a while, Although, We met only weeks ago. Your heart is your beauty And on the outside, you're a cutie. My poetry lives through my sight And you just so happened to be in the light.

You are kind. You, I just met. You were hard to find. You don't know my mindset. You are worth fighting for. You are beautiful and smart. You, there's so much in store. You have an amazing heart.

What is it... Hope? It's a false word, A dying light. It doesn't exist I'm giving up the fight. Hope is fake And is all a lie. There's only so much I can take. I'm only one guy.

Bite my neck, suck me dry Bleed me out, make me fly Dizzy, drained Yet anything but pained Hope you’re hungry Bloodthirsty Suck my life away My neck bared as I lay Kill me, turn me Make me yours Do it quickly Drink the crimson candy With serrated jaws Let me join you Let me love you "We are much too different"? Then make me a kindred soul Running in merriment No more life to take its toll Side by side, lovers in the night Nephilim nightmare A sanguine sight Bloodstained and fair Killing them all, bite by bite

Frightening thrills Candy and chills Eating your fill Up on Halloween Hill Full of sugar Full of horror With sanguine skeletons And other petrifying persons “Trick or treat” Are you sore-of-feet? Come on in, have a rest Our dinner is always the best Knock on the door Open it and enter The world of macabre Scream at the horror Up on Halloween Hill

(i) Shadow lurking in my past; Becoming clearer, returning fast. Ghosts of good times and of bad, Drowning my thoughts, driving me mad I roughly remember the many memories; Sitting on sand, seeing you sliding on the seas; You giving me courage to dive in the deep end, Guiding me across the water, holding my hand. You were family, you were a friend, You should have been there to the end. Instead you burned up, burned out, Leaving smoke and a son too alone to shout “Hope you never come back”. (ii) I’m not anything like you. I don’t beat my love black and blue. I don’t let my main skill fall through Then bitch ab

Lost the skill My creative flow To get it back, I would kill But how that’d help, I don’t know I can’t seem to write Just doesn’t feel right Nothing seems to be enough And my head is empty of stuff No problems or issues Things I shouldn’t be sad to lose Life is too good at the moment I have no cause to lament Happiness is hard, difficult to explain It’s so much easier to write of pain But my life is devoid, empty Of suffering to inspire me I’ll still write now and then When Mistress Poetry embraces me again And I’ll still be here with all of you, my friends But it won’t be to produce p

Lacking inspiration Boredom, my damnation Pulling me Driving me To sweet insanity I tire of nothings Needing some somethings Trying all everythings Coming up with nothings… Writing crappy poetry To those ones and zeroes Why do they read this insanity? Could be pity I suppose… Emptiness, pointlessness Loneliness, hopefulness That dear Poetry, my mistress Will return in her gracefulness… Put me out of this misery Help me to write again To find my sweet Poetry My mistress, to keep me right and sane…