I'm 18 and I write to make myself happy. You can never go wrong with making yourself happy
Who am I to say where the winter winds go. Or how cold they should be. I am only a man. I have no control over such things. I only control my body. With which I do my own thing. The rest is unknown.
Getting away from a hazy mind. Then forgetting all that just happened. My all too common sense of time. Nothing leaves me, nothing comes. Only confusion left to linger in droves.
I fell off the side of a cliff with a rocky patch below. I thought I had fell to my death all alone. Cracked my skull and fractured my spine. I was hurt in the end although the beginning was fine.
"I love those who can smile in trouble, who can gather strength from distress, and grow brave by reflection.
Everything in my future will turn out great. I just have to believe it..
Bud Abbott: I'm going to prove just how stupid you are so here's a question for you. You’re 40 years-old and you’re in love with this little girl that’s 10 years-old.
Heavy air weighing down on my shoulders. Something was very wrong. The hair on my neck standing tall. Someone lives here after all. This one is not alive just outspoken. Just a grounded soul.
Tears could fall from my eyes right now. But my sadness would eventually deepen. Our two hearts could break down. But we won't let them weaken. For I am strong as she is too. We are forever.
Ive been grounded to all I've known. While she goes out Alone. To the far reaches of the world. Places I will never know. I won't hold her hand and feel new air. Or kiss her every night under new sky.
I put my shoes on to start the day I walk out past the morning's haze to see what lies ahead today.
The man, sadness, follows close behind. Trying to meet you at the worst possible time. I've met this man a few times before. He held me down and didn't let go. His breath reeked of fear and doubt.
Tears flow as great waterfalls over the cliff of my cheeks. Almost drowning in them leaving all feelings bleak. But a painful death is more pleasant than this.
Clouds of regret That sit above your head change all too frequently. Moving from depressing grey to an okay white in just a minute's time.
It started on a warm summer night when my buddy and I were lurking on Facebook when he gets a message from this brown haired girl.
All the beauty ones eyes can see Are tethered to a sense of mystery.
I wish to be seared to a crisp. And come out a fine dust. To be stuffed into a rocket. And shot up at dusk. My vessel, once whole, would become a fine show to see.
I've never pondered mistakes before. Yet now I find myself drowning. In front of me your eyes resemble a door. One through which I've seen before. But when I looked again.
They have put you through the ringer and Your heart came out a scarlet red,. Filled with dead blood that fueled this memory's past. As you sleep with apathy tucked into your bed.