Why read these words,
This script of shame,
A coward’s tool of attention.
Finding solitude upon the pen’s swing,
Capturing untouched emotions,
As life moves on,
Hiding within these walls,
The confines of mine,
The poetic failure.

Speaking this babble,
Of freedom in expression,
Tightening the shackles of writer’s block.
Listening to clock tick,
Turning the pages of time,
Slicing my mind open,
Exposing my inner self.
Drowning in your self doubt,
Mourning the words unsaid,
The demons untapped,
Forgetting reality as time slows,
Failing to ignite the beauty in my misery

I’ve become another flash in the pan,
A suicidal stalker,
Fucking self mutilation,
Speaking out of verse,
Of how mommy and daddy smother me,
Within this life of luxury.
Masking the assault within,
Dying with each sun rise,
Crying as the moon appears,
Trying to salvage the remains of my insanity,
As black becomes white,
Day becomes night,
Veins become red,
As blood turns blue.
I sit upon my pedestal of hypocrisy,
Forgetting to add the reasons I write,
As I end my life upon the knife,
So please forget me in time,
For a poetic failure is all I am.