Author's Intent

The world has been writing

my poetry for me.

I feel every song on the

radio

hole in the wall

tear on any other face

my nerves can sense the

tension

feel the suspension of time

time commanded by the

heartless feeling of a

broken heart

or ankle

either way I feel what I can

because words are stolen

and put into other's lyrics

and guitar strings

I can't be a poet if I can't

write but that's alright

one day I will be the

masterpiece I have designed

and when I die

hang me on your wall

put me behind glass

if you deem me worthy

unlike right now where I

regret everything and every

decision between here and

eternity

I knew I should have

followed my heart instead

of my pocket and I am here

staring at me destroying my

mind

but God I know the logic

sits in my irrational heart

I don't want what's easy

I want what's mine

mine is the word

mine is the power

mine is every tear that

might possess me when I

should be going out

or I should be academic

I want the ripping feeling

to stop

my hair to stop turning

gray

I know the weakness of me

is in my strength

because it shows my

weakness

because I can't measure

myself through amount of

crinkled tissues

I won't let my brain become

my savior.

My world is writing my

poetry for me

and I'm taking the pen

from it's arrogant hand.