READ ME.

What i and someone like me, possibly you, would maybe think about when they sit down to write or eat dinner... or whenever... you would do your thinking...

I CAN WRITE A HAPPY POEM BUT THEY ARE USUALLY BRAINLESS
EVERY OTHER ONE IS ABOUT HOW MY LIFE HAS BEEN FILLED WITH STRESS AND BASICLY A MESS....

what should i write
i think about my extra-ordinary life today
and how it still is a fight
i dont really know what i could say

there are things i know
and things i dont
there are things i show
and things i wont

THIS IS WHAT I DO TO SORT IT ALL OUT
I REASON WITH MY SELF TO TEPORARILY HIDE FROM MY PATHETIC TEENAGE DOUBT:

i close my eyes
and try to think of my next move
there are only so many tries
before i lose

but what is the rush
ive been in worst places
ive learned not to trust
such innocent faces

Ive grown in ways
i know now nothing is forever
we are all strays
including the clever

BUT WHAT DO I KNOW? IM NOT EVEN CLEVER,
AND IM A TERRIBLE SPELLER ALOUGHT I CAN RHYME WELL WITH BIG WORDS TOO..
CLEVER-ENDEAVOUR,

ANYWAYS...

life only gets more confusing
people less reliable
the odds of losing
are frankly undeniable

have you ever asked yourself the questions below...
what do i do on a day to day basis?
whats next for me and how can i know?
should i let time fill in the holes and all the spaces?

and what am i all about?
am i too young to know?
do i have to figure it out?
can't i just go with the flow?

and i have all the questions
and nobody with anything concrete
just suggestions
and selfish deceit

i have an option to try and put my puzzle together
i could let these thoughts race through my mind
i could try to sew together all my patches forever
i could waste away, depressed looking for the answers i want to find

AND SINCE THIS POEM IS ONE OF MY MOST HONEST AND TRUE
IM GUNNA BE TOTALLY REAL WITH YOU...

id rather sit here and forget
indulge in all the distractons
play some russian roulette
and forget about the results of my actions

because thats what works for me
for now at least its okay
drowning my thoughts with a glass of whiskey
day after day

AND NOW BOYS AND GIRLS TO END THE TALE OF GLORY,
ill leave you with my HALF ASSED PROBABLY CORRECT BUT NOT ENTIRELY CERTAIN, ID GET A SECOND OPINION, BUT WOULD TRUST ME, BECAUSE ITS MOST LIKELY PARTLY ALL SPOT ON morale of the story...

change is bound to us
wether you or i like it or not
we only have the power to guess
if we can make the next shot

one of these days, weeks, years
ill be where i feel right
and there will be no more fears
no more questions, confusion,
     no more sad poems to write.

Author's Note

this poem is about how i think... what goes through my head about my future, my need to shrug thngs off and make a joke about things... its about being on my own and dealing with reality, being young, how much ive grown and learned and mostly just how i deal with my confusion... writting is therapeutic i know because i can take a bad feeling and make it sound beautiful.. if i can do that with words why cant i do it with my way of thinking....