#bleedingpen

[i-write-my-wrongs]

Ode to Humanity

The world as we know it works in nobody's favour. We may have battlefields on which senseless violence takes place, but sometimes the worst kind of harm comes not from famine or plagues. But from the next door neighbour who thinks that you're not what your parents are, the parents who want you to be just like the next door neighbour's child. The worst kind of destruction is that of our self-esteem and maybe, just maybe if you're one of the unlucky ones the worst kind of destruction is that of your soul.

[i-write-my-wrongs]

I burnt all my poetry

I write, a lot, I fill note books, exam pads and pretty much anything that I can scribble on.

But I don't post much of it on social media. I guess it's like this one quote that I read the other day. "I'm like a therapist that cries at night"

I'm a poet who keeps all his feelings to himself. I'm still not sure if that's a good thing, by the way.

A couple of days ago I burnt all my poetry and I'm trying to figure out if I did that because it wasn't good enough or if I did it because I thought... I hoped that the depression would follow the wind the same way that the ashes did

[i-write-my-wrongs]

She's the one and I'm not.

What heart have I to give

when,"What we have is special" ends,

because,"We'll be better off as friends?"

When "the spark" dies,

because,"There's someone else as times goes by. "

[i-write-my-wrongs]

She's the one and I'm not

And I would've kissed her like an alcoholic taking his last drink

[i-write-my-wrongs]

-she's the one and I'm not-

She was like a rose that complained about the thorns on her stem. And to him... that just made her untouchable.

[i-write-my-wrongs]

She's the one and I'm not.

Maybe like specific music genres, sports or fashion sense. Maybe love isn't made for everyone.

[i-write-my-wrongs]

She's the one and I'm not.

Should kisses be lyrics then I want no song that's new,

I'd prefer the melody that's only sung by you.

[jerichardson90-blog]

SHE, MY WORLD

Last night when the world was quiet and The moon floated by on whimsical clouds Laying awake my thoughts were broken, I heard the grumblings of the stars. They spoke of your beauty and their jealousy “How can she be this beautiful?” they asked “She a mere mortal, who shines as if the gods Made her of pure silver and the rarest of gold” She, my most beautiful opportunity in this life She, who…

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