Just a machine yet theres still a bad heart left nested into nothing, beating to a false dream Coincidences in the colors but not from one to another’s We are all a child at one point...

It’s the dollar bill that kills cheap thoughts been bought from the man that said you cant

To be a poet. Is it knowing self-worth? If that is truly something, It wasn’t given at birth. Words are sharp, they cut like kni…

There was a time, a story, and a t… A eager girl clung to a trunk and… Motors rumbled the mind of a man b… Bells struck, as did hammers, the… His cries unheard, climbing anothe…

The pencil my blood And paper lined the same Like each and every vein They carry the graphite I used to write through the night

The last cigarette, glowing to the end smoke rises, killing to fill your hunger

Add new poem for what, this world is fucked for every word the pencil should b… to paper not through a blogging lifeless ha…

Write a poem, just another one, Another minute Another death, an unappreciated br… Just the two of us, my heart, your…

I don’t understand let me through let me through I have two hands just like you yet mine have been scarred and bro…

Where does one start his journey t… If a picture is worth a thousand, nowadays in public housing, it would only say, “In God We Tr… But it is never enough,

The more things change The more I feel strange The times on my mind Are hard to find real But somehow still remains