I have seen THE horror
of where the truth...
Was it always this way,
or just my oblivion was the sleigh...
My poetry is not poetry really,
if poetry is doomed...
The sadness creeps in,
unsuspected, unwanted...
Could it ever be safe
to be with them...
if tomorrow you ask how i am,
i'm not sure how i'll respond...
Upon the perspective of the oppressive past,
the fragments of bygone prospects...
Without you
I am just a stranger...
And if I could stop giving you power I would.
If I could banish you from existence, I would...
It's been cloudy on my mind and in my heart and in...
they're so different now
you don't check...
And I doubt I’ll be able to forget
the text messages we sent...