Most of my inspiration is from sadness...When I write, I create a release..I have no intention of causing depression from my poetry, if anything I appreciate the ability to express it.

Sunday, July 1, 2012

It's not enough to say I love you,
There's no point in feeling yet,
I waste my mind on old memories,
Compare the hands to the ones I've met,
I laugh at my silly gestures,
I am entertained by where my thoughts have traveled.

My dreams are real when I sleep at night,
The future I see is the one thats right,
I can pass the time, if they'll go away...
I can be myself when I hide my face.

It overwhelms me to smile, tell my story and how I'm well,
These interviews invade my true wants and desires.
I am interested in not one soul, I am disturbed from what they want,
I lack the formula that forms the girlfriend counterpart,
What ties the bond between another to one self,
All there is, is black and white,
The walls seeks my approval for red,
Maybe the pictures that were once colored will be seen. 

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