Whenever I think
of what I want, what I really want, when someone asks me, why, or what. I seem
to have the perfect answer, well, to me. I don’t want sadness because it is
sadness of course, and I do not want happiness because I believe it is something
I will never truly have. I have been seen as an amazing person, oh you’re so
strong and I can’t believe you cope so well with what you’ve been through.
Though hearing others tell me that I am some form of inspiration for them, I look
deep down and tell myself that I am the worst example of how ANYBODY should
ever want to be. I am a hideous soul full of red eyed greed, blood thirsty
corruption, and I sleep in a blanket of sin, late at night, I dream of the
wrong riches in life and fantasize of all the beautiful women passed out on my
bed after a forgettable night that is worth nothing more than the dirt I tread
on. I believe your soul is only worth as much as you let it be worth, and the
value of souls in this day are a dime a dozen, why do I think this way? Why can’t
I be happy with what I have? Why can’t I cut my mind open and remove these
horrible thoughts and ideas? There are many who wish they had the luck and love
I have had, but this is who we are, we don’t realize what we have until it has
cried and had its heart broken in our very presence, until it has told you to
your sorry eyes that it never wants to see or hear from you again, until you
realize that you have broken that persons heart into so many pieces, that they
themselves do not know where they go. And so they are left confused, wondering
if the next guy will ever be able to help her put the pieces in their rightful spot,
while you lay, still, with a piece of that very heart, that she will never be
able to give to another, because you decided, once you betrayed her, that you
would keep it so you wouldn’t have to feel alone, you pretentious greedy piece
of s**t! Which brings me to another
story, of a spicy b***h, who always told you exactly what you did NOT want to
hear, everything she said was an innocent stab to the chest, every word and smile
she slammed into your memory made sure it never left and it never has… To this
day, August 20, 2011, I remember the first time she ever told me she loved me,
the first time she told me she hated me, the first time this creative rose
emptied those insanely negative, but pure responses into the skull of a mind so
complex, even I couldn’t fathom the game she was playing, perfectly she dealt
the cards of hope and sexual desire, but once you turned them over, you
realized they were worth nothing all along, and so she deals and deals, day
after day, and now, she has been dealt, one day she will get hers, I hope she
realizes this. She won’t ever be loved by someone like me, ever again. Before
she f***s him, I want her to know her idea of life is nothing but a silly
puzzle you think you have figured out, but once you stand back and look at it,
you’ll realize it looks nothing as you imagined… This is nothing but a dream, I
will wake up one day, I hope, so I can finally get back to reality, to my life
that I have just began to live, someday I’ll publish this for the world to
read, throw away, criticize, burn, hate me for, or to simply get an idea for
his or her next poem, please forgive me.