Poem: Addict

All it takes is one, just one is all you need.

So, you take one, then nothing.

Okay one was not right how about two.

Okay so let’s take two.

Two is not bad what could that do.

You take two and still nothing.

You wait and wait.

An hour later hay let’s take one more.

It is just one, what could that do.

Then you take one.

Still, you feel nothing.

You read the bottle it says take as needed.

At this moment you need it, and so you take it.

What harm could it do?

Then day after day you wash and repeat.

You ask yourself the same questions and the answers stay the same.

Who does this?


This is you.

This is your addiction.

This is me.

This is just a poem.

Poem: Just

Where is the thing that makes you happy?

Do you even know what it means to be happy?

The wind blows yet it does not make a sound.

When I look up and see who is looking back it is not me.

It is not you, in fact I see us.

I see what we could be if we gave us water to grow.

We just never seem to be able to bloom.

The world of us is starting to crumble, and I do not think I can stop it.

I think it needs to fall.

The good has come and gone.

The bad has been the number one on the menu, at least for me.

This is not over, but it is done.

There is no going back now let us just run.

Poem: My Journey

The storm is right now down the road, yet I still do not see it.

I feel the air changing from love to hate, yet I still trust it.

When I look down the road, I see that the dust is starting rise, but I am just settled.

Is this the end have I given up hope?

I prayed for better days, but so far it has all been a struggle.

This is my journey, and I must walk to it.

The pain is gone, but I still ache for what I do not need.

As the storm is getting closer, my ground becomes firm.

I stand tall and hope something does not knock me down.

My soul is starting to leave, and I feel something coming from me.

What could this, and then I realize that I am free.

Poem: I

I did it again.

I let something that I wanted go.

I waited too long to make the move.

I am not doing my job, but what exactly is my job.

Is it to live free and do what is right?

Is it to be carful and worry about everything that you come your way?

Is this me or am I letting it go to my head.

I am not good at this.

I can never see the light when it is blinding my face.

I only see the dark for it is my true self.

I am my own worst enemy, yet I do not like me.

I do not know me.

I guess that is just me.

I run from my dream, and I walk to my mistakes.

I guess that is why I am me.

Poem: Clear

The wind is moving the tress.

The sun is hiding the moon.

The storm is coming, and I cannot move.

I just stand in the middle looking from left to right.

I do not know what I see. I just cannot move.

Everything starts to go blur for a while, and the only thing I see are faces.

The faces of friends, enemies, and lovers.

As I stand there surrounded by all, everything starts to fade away.

The faces are disappearing, and my heart is leaving with them.

I used to hate them, but now I realize that I miss them.

They are apart of me, but I know that they can no longer be.

We have to part, and they my hearts open.

My confusion becomes clear.

I am becoming me.