I wrote this yesterday

I don't have the courage to die, I'm a coward 

I don't have any more faith left in me to have faith in someone else 

I have tried, and tried

And somewhere in the midst of all these endless attempts 

I've died.

Have you ever felt like you deserved more than you already have

As if you're busy taking on all the challenges and pains of everyone around you. *sigh* 

   

Like the world owes you for the brutality and heartaches miseries and all the evil things you've experienced up until now 

But everytime some little bit of sunlight slips in

A greater dark cloud absorbs it away

"born fresh to suffer"

Never expecting, never deserving

And all else believe and think you've matured from all the childish happy things 

But that is not it, right? You've been made so weak by situations around you that you put up walls 

Protecting you from everything even the happiness thats's meant to be

Because you know...

It isn't. 

But we are fed- lies and poetry

So to the poet 

That never wrote himself a poem

The lover boy

Too engulfed by love to love himself

To the girl always seeking love

With no intention to give it

To the dog that never stood guard

And left his masters' house in ruin

To the sister i lost, to whom my heart longs

She who lived enough to decide

To you, reading this in hopes you find relevance

Yet still you look at me differenltly 

To me, the boy who never had confidence

And yet expect enough of a world to bow 

It is but a poem in the coming of spring

In hopes of more winter.

Where is the love that i have dreamt

Where the hopes of a childish heart soft enough to be naive

can i love you forever

and you yes, knowing forever only lasts so long

you have experience

your heart has been bruised before 

and yet you hope only to return the pain

causing even more pain

...

 Can you love me

again i ask

forever?

Say ray, yes

and my naive little heart

will jump only to those words

forgetting how much of a lie they are...

but im afraid to die

Im a coward with a long history of emotional brutality

and yes if i could...

i would slit my own throat right at the edge of a cliff

for i am broken, battered and squeezed into God only knows what

a mere reflection of a loveless past.

Love me...

and i will forget i never loved myself

...