Poem

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LK68If5LoBk&feature=related

"Forgetting you is like trying to avoid the moon at night. Impossible and something that will break my heart" - (not from me)

Playing with fire

today I remembered

my flaws that is.

I remembered how broken I am.
Remembered how I used you all to fill my own cracks.
how lonely I really am, deep down.

where very few can understand.
i used to be really good at being a loner. ID hide my own little world in my own mind. hurt no one. they thought i was a freak.
but I didnt hurt them.

in 8th grade I let my mind excape.

by doing so I scarred a girl for maybe the rest of her life.
She hates me.

I saw her, in a play.
just a week ago

Beauty and the Beast.

(the beautiful of heart and the beast of skin.)

but i was the beast of heart.

I could not stand the play, for i could not stand knowing she was close.
knowing that just by her seeing me i would hurt her more.

i almost sent her a rose.

she had rose earings that i loved so much

she came on and I saw her.

First time in a
long
long
time.

i dont know if she saw me.
I saw her.
............................................
long ago she saw the real me.
and it killed her.
almost.

entirely my fault.

so a summer went by and I had to deal with knowing how i killed her, how every word, every look hurt her so much. the girl i "loved"

so into my head i went again!

Freshman year.

stayed in my head. still hurt people.

but something interested me.

a new girl.
(i later learned she was a friend of the first)

she trusted me with her heart and gave it to me.

in return i got excited and wanted to share mine with her.

but sadly I couldent find it.

so i let her into a bit of my mind.

she died too.
but was strong enough to live.

so i push her away.

let her smile and live, away from the boy who crushed her heart.

more guilt.

more love that cant be true, for how could i do that to you?

she promised not to love me. but she broke that promise.

so i broke her heart.

am i the only one that knowes to fear love?

i know i taught them to.

IF I truly loved someone, i should stay as far away as i can?

but then came a friend.

who tells me she loves me as she says goodbye.

so i ask her why.

but its fine.

i can not love her.

nor anyone.
not like that.
cause if i cared.

i would not let my self care.

cause ill just kill you too.

ill fill your ears of poetry

as i steal your heart with a kiss.

and for a moment youll feel bliss.
but ill flip.





i didnt believe in love.

untill i met you.
and still i forget it some times.
and,
you taught me so much
but... still...
i wish i had just one.
who could not love me.


and its sad all those who taught me so much.

have so much reason to go.

but its ok. I know.

ill just kill you too.

so please.

just go.

Goodbye

Goodbye blog.

you entertained me a little bit.
but good bye none the less.

btw this is not about a person... i was getting bored with the blog....so i was going to delete, but not anymore

More random thoughts. Why do people create art? Why do they write poems, or songs? What causes a person to express theirselves in such a way? If you're good at it it sure helps, but thats not a good reason to do something. Its meaningless if you don't have a real meaning(totallagy all the way). So why do sad poole write? Why do happy people sing love songs? This is my theory. There is the world it's self. In all of its existence, harsh.It's "Reality". And then there is my world. There is yours. Every single person seeing it differently. But it's the same thing their looking at, just seen differently. So here is where art comes in. You see your paper, or your lump of clay or whatever median you choose. To some it's simply a ball of clay or a scrap of papere. But the people who see the world differently. Who see what it could be and see it their way. Those are the ones we call creative. The ones who see the world their own way and have the ability to show others it. So... Example. Poetry. I have the way I think. I know my own world and how I see it. When I want to show others it I write them a poem. I rarely write for my enjoyment because I don't need to. Writing is how I show you what I'm seeing. What I'm feeling. That's where you get poems like this: They say that truth will set you free But once it does your sad to see That what you've feared has come to be. But was it wrong to tell the truth, And this create a troubled youth. And so in regrets darkest show My fear of truth begins to grow. I wrote that to explain to my self what I was feeling. It doesn't really matter if you're good or bad at art. IF its for you. And you connect to it. It's just the people who them themselves don't know why they create that confuse me. Who give birth to greatness but it means nothing to them. Who hate their work. Hate themselves.

So this is me. Sitting in my chair in study hall, typing on one of my friends iPhone. And this is what I'm thinking about. I'm thinking how you never can truly judge someone based on what you see. You can have no idea what kind of pain that they are going through, or how if you even went through an ounce of what they have to deal with you would crack. Instantly. But as people let me in and tell me their secrets I saw that people never have more than they can Handel. Sure some turn to cutting or to epically depressing poetry. But they are alive. They live. There was once a time when I myself was too lost to find a way out. And that is the only time when I cry. When I see no way out. Not cheesy movies. Not cause Im a sissy. Just cause... It's all that's left. But that's my sadness. I can deal with that in my own mind. It's the people who have so much more that scare me. Those who have mindsets and lives I don't even understand. When I have no advice. No suggestions. Nothing I can do to help. That's what scares me. To care for someone you can't save.

So this is me. Sitting in my chair in study hall, typing on one of my friends iPhone. And this is what I'm thinking about. I'm thinking how you never can truly judge someone based on what you see. You can have no idea what kind of pain that they are going through, or how if you even went through an ounce of what they have to deal with you would crack. Instantly. But as people let me in and tell me their secrets I saw that people never have more than they can Handel. Sure some turn to cutting or to epically depressing poetry. But they are alive. They live. There was once a time when I myself was too lost to find a way out. And that is the only time when I cry. When I see no way out. Not cheesy movies. Not cause Im a sissy. Just cause... It's all that's left. But that's my sadness. I can deal with that in my own mind. It's the people who have so much more that scare me. Those who have mindsets and lives I don't even understand. When I have no advice. No suggestions. Nothing I can do to help. That's what scares me. To care for someone you can't save.