The secrets of life are a sight in your head, Look much closer and your eyes will bleed crimson red. I’m going to see the fallen angel just to hear what he said. I look into his soul and he forgives all when you are dead.
Remember the child you were and see the past and the future is the path that you tread; Dare to do the things that your child told you or you’ll never have a chance to go where it led. I have told you how to get there, now the choice is yours; Either be a sheep all your life, or become the wolf and taste that which bled.
I am a poet through and through and anyone that tells you different you must deny it and slap them across the face very roughly indeed. I love the normal things in life and turning them into mysterious meaningful emotionally attached fascinating object or subjects.
To put words down on paper, That can give a memory life. To recreate a moment passed, Long buried deep inside. To compose a verse so eloquent, It can cause a heart to break. And lead the reader to feel
Like everyone else, A poet has dreams Dreams to flow within the letters of the words That lead him closer to his destiny He is partial To imagine What the neural network Across the brain cannot Even if he was
It’s nights like these when I feel like an irony living within itself radiating love yet feeling unloved. It’s night like these when I can’t recognize what tomorrow holds or recall what yesterday held. I feel like an insect crawling