Poetry

I am Alive.

I’ve got such a beautiful, restless mind,
trapped inside a coffin.
I’ve tried to find a light,
I try to find the lock and
fill my lungs with air.

I scratch my nails against the wood,
I kick for life to end, I wish it would.
I scream but it all comes misunderstood,
as a breeze that blows when life is good.

The dust it keeps me coughing,
as I bang against the walls.
I fear the Earth is calling,
to fall upon my soul.

My earliest memory, despair.

I only know how to care,
whether just or just unfair.
I give my all, to end up restless,
where the dead come to rest.

I carried on my chest,
the pain of those tired and depressed.
My knees trembled as I slowly sank,
deep into a cage, where above they sang, farewell.

It’s so hard to tell, the days apart.
Have I been here minutes, or long enough for heart’s to stop beating?
They used to say that time is fleeting,
but it always waits for me.

I dreamt it, to be free,
see the sky or gaze the sea.
I stand a sailor, behind a wall of tears,
fighting for my life.

I can’t count the times that I’ve,
sought the words to just describe,
the raging storms that crash inside,
that beautiful, restless, imprisoned mind.

People hate poetry.

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Poetry

Soulbreak

I am suspended far away from Earth,
into the silence of nothing.
I am sheltered in darkness,
all too alone.

The loudest thing in the known world,
is the scream that tore through, a slow burn.
Begging mercy for a soul which yearns,
you.

I lose hope in all my days,
I wish to stop and change my ways.
It’s urgent and I cannot stay.
She can’t even see.

She cannot even understand,
how much I need to hold her hand.
She can’t too, begin to see,
how much the time she asks for stings.

How much those moments weigh,
how much they make love fade away.
She can not even fathom,
how late she is to save the day.

She has asked for me to sacrifice,
the only thing I have in life.
Yet she can’t even set things right,
by fixing minds she broke.

And each time we came and spoke,
her presence felt like water down a thirsty throat.
But she feeds off my agony and fleeting hope,
so she takes a sip off a sinking boat.

Does she know?
That if she simply tried, I’d fly to make it fine tonight?
That I’d fight another battle after wars I’ve lost inside?
All she had to do was speak it right,
or at least begin.

Though I’ve come to doubt it all myself,
if she is worth the pain I’ve felt.
For if someone truly did deserve,
they’d recognize my worth.

They’d at least hope that I survived,
but I doubt that God was even on my side.
I am all alone and I think that it’s alright,
time is truly pain, salvation.

Lies we tell ourselves.

The pain I feel,
has lasted far longer than me and her.
I have faded as not but a moment of her path,
while some who don’t deserve her had.

We are now, nothing but aching strangers,
whom both wish forever laid on the other side.
We both know where it resides and how we both feel inside,
yet we don’t make it right.
We don’t even try.

Why?

So all their words and explanations,
can not change the time I lived.
All alone inside my mind I suffered,
I mourned a life and then I grieved.

I am desperate to have her here.
I miss her and she’s nowhere near.
Even if she reads my words, she cannot hear,
I am the one for her.

Though I do really wonder, if divine cries their tears of sorrow.
Am I too, observed and rained on, for my chest is all so dark and hollow.
Are my tears worshipped, as faithful come to kneel and follow,
the seas that pour from me, that quench the thirst of those that drink from shallow.

and yet I would sacrifice my life,
so every day she’d be just fine.
I’d even fall and beg divine,
so she can calm her lonely mind.

I’d even be silent.

But what are all these words worth,
when tomorrow all will be the same?
She will carry on waiting,
I will feel the pain.

Each day, closer to the moment,
where we will never meet again.
Because each day builds on scars,
shaped as her painfully beautiful name.

She will love another, sadly I will too.
Our lives will pass by fast, yes this world is cruel.
I had to tell the world, just one last time,
that it was you, it will always be you.

My one true life.

We could have made it right,
a tragedy, we stopped and quit the fight.

Most people want to live,
I wanted life.

I got to live a single breath.

I lived and then I died.

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Poetry

My weakest prose

Sometimes I want to pick up a phone,
write you letters and send them home,
so that your heart can stay calm.
I always think of you.

So many unsent words,
begging to be heard,
but I always think my worth,
is cause to all my hurt.

I want to know, if you saw my messages,
did you read them, do you want more?
Should I pursue my soul,
or give up and fall.

Would you try again,
would you hurt once more?
Would you feel this pain with me,
let it hurt you to your core?

Because the knowledge what comes after,
is worth all the mountains and disasters.
I sure changed a lot,
but not enough to have your laughter.

I wished upon a shooting star,
that we would love and heal those scars,
but your blade is still cutting deep,
and I just want to sleep on art.

I want to rest my tired soul,
but it never seems to grow.
I need your hands to hold,
to warm my frozen chest.

The best thing one could do,
the truest sign of love,
is to end the pain that’s cruel
and end the nights that rough.

So let me in and open up your heart,
smile again and show me all your cards.
If it is meant to be, we will overcome it all,
we need to build the peaks where we will stand tall.

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Poetry

One More Dance

Your words sting like rain.
Frozen, blowing in the wind like pain.
How much I would give, to have you be real,
show me your mind, your soul, have us clean out the stains, laid down on dirty minds.

I can not believe, my best friend came to be no more.
My once greatest love, faded into darkness like a distant shore.
I lost a battle, a war I didn’t know I came to fight,
it’s hard to find a light to shine on my lonely mind.

And these poems that I write, soaked by eyes that are blind,
only linger on, to remind, me,
that I’ll never be free, be.
I will always love more than I am loved.

I tried so hard to make you see why I am, the right path for you.
I tried to paint a picture, of the landscapes we could view.
I tried to show you, why none of them worth as me,
I tried to breathe, when you let me drown in tears.

Perhaps the greatest pain in life,
is feeling awfully low and tired,
wanting to scream out a pain,
but never knowing what words to say.

You, my first love, my moon and my dream world,
could not hear me.
It hurt.

I always liked to believe that’s not what I deserved.

I tried to wait, for months on end,
as you are as I hoped, my darling, God sent.
I tried to lie, to my one true friend, my mind,
so it never had to find you guilty.

Still you chose to not live on with me.
You chose to cut all ties.
You chose to keep my wounds bleeding
and I swear to you with all my heart, my mind, it cries.

It cries a scream of agony,
trapped by a world that seemed to be mad at me.
I know you did not go to live on happily,
but my darling, you had, me.

You had it all inside your palms,
I was far from perfect and could not bring you calm,
I could not grow, while I was with you,
but believe me, I grew because all of it was cruel.

I grew, beaten to exhaustion,
I changed, I’ve been feeling nauseous,
cautious, that you’re here to break my heart again,
could you please sacrifice all your sharp edges and come live a happy end?

Regardless of all that had taken place,
I just hoped you’d one day wake to race,
to erase all that space, which drew between our souls.
I still hope, but your hands are too cold to hold.

But believe me, little thing, it’s all worth it and you don’t even know.
No matter how much love hurts, or how we fall,
love is the only thing that matters.
Because my love for you can battle temptations and cultures and pain and time itself.

The love I have for you is strange and it makes no sense,
but that is exactly why love, is every little thing.
Love is breathing, when you do not wish to breathe.
I wished you to love me, because I did not love me.
I love you so, so much and it hurt to watch you leave,
but it hurt so much more to believe and have you never come back.
So close to the tip of my fingers, but so far it drove me mad.

But this world I tell you, is not for us.
I built us a star, you need just look above.
In that crazy little world, everything will be alright,
because no matter how awfully tired I grow to be, you are still there with me,
thousands of miles away, my beautiful long lost stranger.

Love, is all there is.
So place your arms around my neck, as I place mine around your hips.
Look me deep into my eyes, let me melt into your lips.
Let me warm your fragile, violent hands,
as we float on slowly, in one last dance.

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Poetry

Two Years

When did you become a stranger?
When did I lose it all?
When did you lose my name and
who is there to catch you fall?

I wake in an endless tiring dream,
my throat scarred from all the silent screams.
There used to be a time, when she may have seen,
a little bit of worth to me.

She now I dream, is running free.
She’s not like me, I wished it be.
Who else like me, is trapped in life,
months have passed, I hang on tight.

I hold on weak, with all my will.
My soul it drips, to holds her still.
I’ve drowned in living, my faith it kneels,
I dream too big, can’t be fulfilled.

Sometimes I think, my love has passed,
I love someone who’s home in past.
The one that’s here, she scares me bad,
yet, I’d die ten times to hold her hands.

But I no longer know her, nor does she know me,
why do I still desire her, or feel this lonely?
Am I never to heal, or will I grow too slowly,
I am there for her, alone, I’m falling.

I was not deserving, but suffered to be so,
of the girl that once was, but is no more.
It’s agonizing, deeply to my core,
that I will never have the chance to hold her soul.

She never got to know me.

She is another scar on top my years,
another rose, my pile of fears.
She is immortal, she lives inside my tears,
that drip like ink on pages daily,
splashing loudly so she hears.

It’s been two years.

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Poetry

Faith

God never gives you more than you can handle.
She is there by my side, with her palms around a candle,
protecting me from storms, that come to put me out.

How sad, that I have lived so few a years,
already burned out, fresh out of tears.
Here to live a life without a soul,
I was born whole and now I’m torn.

She fed me honey slowly, when the world had drowned in drought,
she keeps me on my feet, clears my every route.
I still am very weak, full of so much doubt,
she loves me very dearly, she knows what it’s about.

My mind is full of blessings, my chest is full of pain,
she molds me to be someone, different from the grain.
She waters me each day, to grow, though I don’t pray,
she loves me like a mother, the son that walks astray.

She paints a world that’s colored gray,
she holds my soul, when it begs not to stay.
She hides the sun, she ends each day,
so that my eyes can rest and my mind can wake.

She never gives you more than you can handle,
she places me in rain, so I could have the right angle,
to see the right view, the pretty colored strips,
God is on my side, so I’ll breathe.

I’ll breathe in this life, one breath at a time,
I won’t wait for hearts that don’t want mine.
I won’t pretend, that I am well or even fine,
I am hurting, but that’s alright.

I only have her.

The divine, that forged your world and mine.
The one they spoke of, in golden shrines.
Her, whom they love in words and signs,
I worship, in my quest for mind.

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Poetry

These Words are Mine

There is not a single body on this rock,
that will walk inside your lonely mind.
There is not a single pair of lips,
that will part to bring you peace.

You are all alone, in a fleeting breath.
Born in tears to yearn for death,
everybody leaves, my mind’s my wealth,
I’ve been inside it way too long, I need some help.

Through every smile, every laugh,
every set of arms around your neck.
Every act of bliss and wrath,
you will walk the wrecked path, alone.

Your chest, full of stones,
that scrape against your soul,
burning you to your core.
We are always wanting more, though I’ve lost the war within.

I live a life of sin.
I’m loud and my skin is thin.
Made of glass, I hide to win,
if you were to count to ten, you’d still see beyond the grin.

You have nobody, but you,
you grow tired, of you.
Just a few more decades, it’s through,
I wish I didn’t know, time, it’s cruel.

It brings you comfort, it’s foreign.
I’m drowning, my eyes they catch a glimpse of the shore and
my soul melts, drips, it comes pouring.
I know, everything will be just fine,
just as long as I wake tomorrow, to walk the line.

For my pain, it is divine.
At moment’s drawn by an artist, the weight it declines.
I just wish the signs could be clearer,
or I wish I’d part with this mind.

Nobody cares, about you.
You are a tool, to forge their own peace.
Everyone suffers, it blows with the breeze,
spreads like a smile, kills like disease.

So please, the moment you fall exhausted,
don’t hurt the ones that caused it.
As every chest is burning,
they all just want to halt it.

So when they pull from your fears,
look into your eyes and they drink all your tears,
let them quench their thirst.
Everything is temporary, I think even hurt.

Their peace, the only thing that brings me comfort.
The only time I leave this mind, the cage where they come first.
The only time I see a soul, when loneliness is unheard,
I’ve screamed and begged since I was torn, so much that my lungs hurt.

I’m glad they came, left their pain,
took my soul and sunk like rain.
I grow each day, while my head it sways,
gravity the cruel, won’t let me go.

I am truly, here, all alone, but that’s fine,
at least I know myself and I’m fine with time.

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Poetry

Muse

Yes, I will write poetry for you,
every single day.
Regardless if that is the way,
no matter if you leave me or stay,
I will write and my love will linger in the air.

I write mostly, as art is the aching heart,
that speaks when lips can’t part.
I write, because angels ask, what’s behind my sorrow.
I write, so you know, you are loved today, tomorrow.

Read every word, knowing, regardless of moments,
through the good times and torment,
in someone’s soul, you are oxygen.
I write for you, as you, my darling, are life.

If time is your biggest desire,
let me write physics out, dream the universe tired.
Let me hold all the fire, my fierce fighter, which you so passionately light,
let me hold it, so tight, so that you can breathe a little and fill your chest with life.

My love, be.

Live, laugh, love, grow, dream and take in every view, this world has to offer.
The same world which envies you, your beauty, every smile you get to author.

You are to me, water to my thirst,
I’d live a dozen lives and you’d always come first.

To the strangers eyes, a poet is the cursed.
Looking out of broken glass, cracked, ready to be burst.
Only you and I know, let them judge.
I am too imprisoned, writing every verse,
in the comfort of your shadow, my beautiful, little violent rose.

All too fragile, heart softer than it shows.
You’d look at one hundred eyes and I and God, the only ones who know,
what’s behind your green, when your curtains come to close.
Take it all in, everything will be alright.

I can not write away the night,
nor can I change my stubborn mind.
All I can do, is hold you tight,
with every single word I write.

And if your love has left your chest,
I wouldn’t change a single letter.
You are simply the best thing,
that has come from heaven.

Your name, an infinite ocean,
is the only sound that calms within.
I hear it every now and then,
I wish I’d learned to swim.

Cursed are those, who never get to see you shine,
those who haven’t looked inside your eyes,
those who haven’t felt the warm kiss of your shining smile.
Cursed are those, who never get to leave their minds,
blind, in love and chasing tides.

How terribly sad for those, who never got to find, you.

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