Some write for therapy, some for love, but others write only for themselves to understand. In their eyes, their poetry is perfect. Cause we all think differently of everything.

The art is in the eye of the beholder.

Either lifes to short,
Or I'm to short for life.

I lied to everyone I love,
I'm not okay.
I may seem happier; better maybe.
But still deep, deep down there my heart is still breaking.

I got this pain in my chest.
It's called loving him.

You say I deserve better, and I am better off without you.

But did you think that I don't want anyone else, or what it can do to me without you?

When you run from your problems, you run from yourself.

When you finally forget her, and stop loving her. Don't you dare remember me, and say that you love me.

Don't tell me I'm drop dead gorgeous...because I may actually listen to you.

Like a gaping fish, I open and close my mouth but nothing comes out.

When I say I'm giving up, doesn't mean I am to weak to go on...It's strong enough to admit I can't take it anymore.