Poet Introduction Never thought I'd want to be a poet. I have soooooo much to let go of. Seems like a more constructive way to get it all out than letting it go in negative ways. Lets see where poetry takes me.
Get out. Out of my head. Out of my heart. Out of my bed when I'm touching myself.
You didn't look back when you ripped me to shreds. Left me in tears with a hole torn through my heart. Told me you loved me, that I was the one. Your vices I knew but I didn't care. My love for you was truly sincere. You twisted me up until I believed all the lies. Then you were gone and it was all part of your diabolical plan.
Lewd little liar. A pretty little thing. Prancing around wielding false power. Incubating torment is all that's in your head. Thinking behind so you can plot your forward twist. Knife in the back, again and again. Always covering to suit yourself. Abuse your special magic to get the rest to bow. Nobody would dare think for themselves to catch you in your lies. Like a queen abusing subjects, It's all a bit sick. Your sheep's clothing hides that wolf well.
What about your victims? Doesn't even matter, does it? So long as you remain...
I want answers To the questions I have. I'm stuck, Like a fly on a gluestrip. I can't move on. Give me some answers so I understand. Don't know what I did, But maybe it's you If I am not told, I'll hope for the best. If you want me to vanish Just let me know. Don't string me along, Pretend you're a friend I value what I thought we had. My intentions truly are pure, No ulterior motives here. I'll hurt for a while, But I'll move along. I'll learn to treasure past times. Right now it seems You're playing me for...
Daylight breaks across far off horizons. Creates the grand master of all illusions. Everything seems alright when lit up by golden light. But the sun's glow fades and the dark cloak of night descends. A honest day's work is over and done. Time for our many vices to show.
"I'm going out with the boys to watch the game." But he runs to his mistress and cheats on his wife. She's home with the kids, almost at her wit's end. They fight and yell and, oh, how she wishes she could slap them to hell. She reaches up in the cupboard and throws back her...
Another night seen a friendship wasted. Drank it to death, bottle by bottle. Egos and pride that just can't be tamed. Two of a kind, stubborn and drunk. Now two sit alone saying "What the fuck?" If I'd only have known what was to come, I'd put every last bottle back on the shelf.
The lessons of life... What could they mean? I think I know then I'm screwed again. Bipolar thoughts spin in my forever unsettled brain. Which one is right? Are the rest really wrong? Just when I feel comfy and all settled in,