and I'd like to know what you guys think about it.
My poems are amateur, I do know that. Please refrain from harsh language.
I just want to know what you are thinking, without it hurting my self-esteem.
Pain
Pain can be a leech.
It sucks away at the heart, resulting in a heart full of confusion and numbness.
The pain would be sucking all the life out of you.
Pain can be a drug.
You can feed off of it, use it for your own selfishness.
The heart weakens slowly.
It would soon kill you.
Pain can be a strength.
If the pain does not kill you, it makes you stronger.
A weapon, this is.
A weapon against the outer world, to protect the only life in you.
Pain is overwhelming.
Pain is unhappiness.
Pain is an infectious disease. No one can truly get away from this pain.
Pain can sometimes be welcomed.
Pain can deflect pain.
Without pain, we would not be considered human, but an android, a robot.
Without pain, we would not know what true happiness, or sadness is.
Without pain, we would not be living.
Pain is pain.
Random Rambling
I admit,
I'm scared.
Help me.
Save me.
I hate my life.
Not really.
Just kidding.
Well, maybe a little.
I confuse myself.
Save me.
You are not helping at all.
You are not saving me.
I am asking for help.
All you do is stare.
Pity me from afar.
You are cruel.
But then again, so am I.
I treat you unfairly, when you love me so.
You scare me.
It is scary how much you care for me.
So why?
Why care about me?
I'm doing nothing but hurting you.
Go ahead, just spit on me.
Hurt me.
I deserve it.
Save me.
I pity you.
You are pathetic.
I try to save you, even if you ignore.
I fail at everything.
I'm sorry, I would say.
For what? you would say.
For everything. I would say.
Don't be. You would say.
I hate it when you do that.
Let me be sorry.
Just let me be.
I hate you.
You hate me.
Obviously, it is a love/hate relationship.
That you and I are in.
So why,
Why do you do this to me?
Talking to you pains me so.
But you force me.
You constrict me.
You strangle me.
With your words.
I wish you would just go away.
No.
Don't go away.
Stay with me.
Don't leave.
Just because we don't see each other anymore,
doesn't mean you can do this to me.
I hate this.
Just...
Go away.
Leave me be.
Please.
Everything would be better off,
For you, and for me.
If you just went away, and never returned.
But i would not forgive myself,
If I told you to go away,
You would hate me.
I would hate me.
Everyone would hate me.
We would never exchange words like how we did.
But alas, we hardly exchange any now.
I suppose, this relationship of ours will cease to an end.
Slowly and painfully.
I would hurt. You would hurt more.
I would cry. You would cry more.
I'm sorry.
Don't leave.
What does this mean?
I take out my pastels,
my charcoals.
I draw.
Eyes.
Tears.
A sea of blue.
A bright red flower.
Black.
An angry man.
I scribble.
Repeat.
Eyes.
Tears.
A sea of blue.
A bright red flower.
Black.
An angry man.
I scribble.
The same things.
Over and over again.
Never ending.
Two pages now.
Three.
Four and a half.
I set my colors,
my charcoals away.
I have made a mess.
Pastel powder is everywhere.
Smudges on my clothes.
My fingers are blue.
I put the pages away.
Run from the thought.
Prison
I want out
Stop keeping me in here,
I am not your slave
but you hold me here
like I am your prisoner
stop fooling yourself
you cannot make me do and say things
that are against my will
it took me a while to figure things out
after taking in all of your s**t.
yet you treat me so kindly at times
its hard to know who you are inside.
So please, free me,
if you really care,
so I can leave
this prison of love.
More poems are to come.
