Underneath The Oak Tree

I Always Grow As A Poet  
But Never Grow Out Of Poetry  
This Notebook I just Cant  
Find My Way Out Of  
"Theyre Called Thoughts For A Reason"  
Was What You Always Said To Me  
"Stop Wasting Time Scribbling"..  
So I Spent My Days Hiding  
Underneath The Oak Tree  
Writing Of Nothing  
And Everything I Couldnt Comprehend  
Like  If Everytime You Raised Your Fist  
Did It Make You Feel Like A Man?  
Or How Everytime I Catch Some One Lying  
I Can Only Wonder Why The Truth Is So Hard To Speak  
I Write Until My Hand Cramps  
Until My Back Is Numb With Pain  
And In These Hours Of Writing  
Ive Learned That I Often Think To Much  
And Never Say Enough.  
Maybe If I Spoke More
Instead Of Spending Days  
Hiding Underneath The Oak Tree  
Then People Might Understand Me  
Maybe If I Could Express My Emotions  
Instead Of Hiding Between Ink And Lines  
Maybe Then Brian Would Have Had The Time  
To Understand Why Am Different  
And Why My Smile Never Reaches My Eyes  
Maybe He Could Of Loved  
The Girl Behind The Disguise  
Maybe Just Maybe He Could Have Cared More  
If I Read Him All The Letters  
Ive Written And Torn..  
And Maybe Just Maybe  
If I Didnt Spend My Days Hiding  
Underneath This Imaginary Oak Tree  
Then Maybe, Just Maybe  
I Could Understand ME.