Self-helpMorphing, forming, creating,
Myself from scratch,
Hiding the birthmark,
The scars,
The blemishes;
Insecurities,
Yet, these obscurities encasing our organs,
Found on the horizon line,
Of our skin,
Should mean as much to us,
As past lovers do,
They just don't matter. Self-helpin Poetry
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The Low RoadThis swelling in my head,
This ache in my heart,
Could have been prevented,
Instead, I find myself wounded,
I just need your simple healings,
For everyday I'm plagued,
By catastrophic dealings,
With this devil.
Everyone warns us about the path that leads to nowhere,
But what we really need to fear,
Is the path that will lead us lower... The Low Roadin Poetry
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8:13I want you to
cry into my ninety-eight percent
cotton shirt,
just so I can finally know
what it would sound like
if you were vulnerable,
If for just once
you would lose control,
scream so loud
you scare the birds away,
then I could finally understand your
flaws,
wrong-doings,
come on,
show me your bad side,
I want to discover
your intricate
cerebral cortex,
intimate thoughts,
and your knowledgeable vortex,
which contains your
why's and how's,
do's and don'ts
let's talk
about who you are,
who you've always wanted to be,
and see how you end up.
8:13in Poetry
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A Doll's HouseYou work me like a puppet,
With no strings attatched,
Call me sweet names,
That I know won't last,
When I swell with courage,
And try to think on my own,
Your condescending glare,
Erase's all I've ever known,
My words are translucent,
Passing right by,
Without your attention,
Encouraging my lies,
All I am to you,
Is a little toy doll,
Something to play with,
Someone to stay with,
I often wonder,
What it would be like,
to be free. A Doll's Housein Poetry
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Sta.sh
