I write poems of anger and rage
On every line of every page
I hide emotions of joy and care
To save myself from more dispar
Long stories I'll forever hide
I know why I never confide 

I fear myself 
Place my all emotion high on a shelf
Never to be touched

Few people can reach them
Those rare few who make me less glum
Tho I've recently found, most people are scum
Guess it's just a way of living
I know most are unforgiving

Though think he can see
Can he?

A tiny little window
Right through the clouds
Through the darkness and shrouds
I have a heart and it's not black
It's just I've been broken and it's hard to go back

Not by anyone specific at all
I Simply tend to make myself fall
could I take them down with me?
Could I hurt them all too?
Someone please tell me what to do?

Even now as I write in joy
Thinking of a topic I so much enjoy
Somehow I've managed to make this sad
Good lord help me I must be mad

So I'll go back to talking to him
Take me off on a random whim
Talking about things that actually matter
Without making me think of disaster
He somehow manages to challenge my brain
But does so while bringing me zero pain

I wish I could write like him
The beautiful words
To explain how explaining still kinda hurts
To tell him I like him as much as he shows
And I want to tell him just so he knows

But now I think I can see a  hope
Where at last the darkness broke
And a new happiness is stoked

It makes me think
Is My mind on the brink
Of falling back to sanity