Acid rains from these black coloured clouds,
As children hide in their shacks...

i dont write poems anymore
and the friends i had made...

Blood is thicker then water
but it's oil that keeps me going...

One foot in front of the other
Is how we're taught to walk...

Late night drunken fights with you mean more
then the kisses of the thousands of strangers...

Words thrown across the page in the prettiest pink...
and with handwriting written in the neatest form...

Cold tough chiseled rock
yet when cracked a beautiful...

Grave
robbers...

I've been breathing alone for what seems like ages...
Solitude and work being my only friends...

Every time you've laid a hand on my face
I question what it meant to be in love...

Ive sold my soul at least a dozen times
each encounter worse then the last...

My poetry is nothing more then crumpled newspaper,
Words that are smudged beyond comprehension...