im stuck .

sometimes i dont wanna miss you .
and sometimes i miss you so much i cant stand it.
but im tired of the pain 
and im tired of your games
but i cant let go .
im stuck
and ive already ran outta luck .
but i want you to hold me tight
so i make it through this fight .
ONE day ill get the strength to leave
dont worry you'll see too .
and my guy friends already said
he better not hurt you .
but love is a tricky thing.
and all i wanna do is be your queen.
im stuck .
im stuck .
you've burned my heart with your name
and scared my soul into thinking  mr right could only be you.
and u have scarred your face into my mind.
ive been brainwashed .
no matter how much i cry
it doesnt make you not tell a lie.
and you never stood back and watched me fly .
im stuck .
and to tell u the truth you've run outta luck .
 
    love , hearts

All The Best Poems Are Untitled

all the best poems are untitled
and all the best poets are not named .
and all the people that want me to write
the words of intelligence
all love me the same .
love all the poets who speak their mind .
wish me the best on my climb .
maybe we can sit and watch the sun rise . 
and maybe read the poems that are untitled
and thank all the poets that are not named.

Yellow and Gray

Yellow on the sun
Gray on my heart
THE CLOUDS ARE THICK
no love.
40 Days . . .
    Rawr .
Yellow & Gray.
Red and BlAck
On Coal.
Red on the eyes of the Heart.
                   Yellow
                                &
                                     Gray
 

PLEASE Stop Talking

Please stop talking.
Shut your mouth.
I can't stand to watch you fail.
Stop Doubting Yourself.
You're Brillant. 
Stop calling yourself fat.
You're sooo skinny. 
Please Stop Talking 
Please Stop Talking.
Please STOP Talking.
Because you don't know what you're saying.
 

Poetry

The poetry I write.
That I write.
That poetry to tell me that my poetry isn't good
I brush it off.
I write the poetry.
Free verse
First person
3rd person.
My poetry
Killers, dream killers
MURDERS.
The Poetry that I write
That I write.
Yes. . .
That Poetry