I don’t write poems for poets Flowery language, indulge us I break it down With a simpler sound And anything more would be less

Hope you are a voyeur Hope you want to see What it truly means Be this human thing Offering my soul

I have an idea Of who I’m s’posed to be And that’s the whole reason I’ve never been happy

I need to get him out So he feels the treat Of an empty bladder Grass beneath his feet

Working towards Common goals

I’ll tear myself from limb to limb For you to suture up again It feels like the perfect win/win To play our roles, morals and sin

I wish that you could see myself The way that I see me Then maybe I might be the one That you would call lovely

When we realize That our imperfections are Our emperfections

You think I’ve got it all figured… I don’t know what’s more wrong I’ve only seen just a glimpse of… You’ve been Her all along

I’d like to find someone That celebrates my self Except this life’s taught me You can’t trust no one else They see your loving charms

There’s shit on your face You just threw up in your mouth Couldn’t be cuter

You showed me the switch And all that comes with it Karma’s a bitch

There’s a certain kind of type That always does it right Elicits smiles and tears In the space between your ears The only sort of religion

You ever seen A sky so blue Picture heaven In perfect hues Makes you think

We were formed In relation To this world Our creation