Humanity

Humanity is just a word,
with hardly any meaning behind it,
because the humans of this world
are all a bit blinded.

They don’t give money to the people without homes
and just walk past a beggar without a second glance,
but would rather spend money on their children’s iPhone’s
instead of giving someone a second chance.

When there’s someone in need,
its not very hard
to just take a seat,
and open your heart.

It doesn’t just go for the poor on the street,
because there’s more people around
who could use a little help and need,
someone to show them how to get off the ground.

So when everyone complains that chivalry is dead,
understand that it is your actions
that have the power to spread
the true meaning behind what is absent.

Failure

I wish I could paint,
but I don’t have a steady hand.
If someone gave me an easel,
my penguin would resemble a man.

I wish I could sing,
but my voice sounds like a cry.
It’s tone-deaf and shaky
no matter how hard I try.

I wish I was smart,
but algebra’s a riddle.
English, science, history,
at school I just piddle.

I wish I was athletic,
but instead of catch, I drop,
instead of fast, I’m slow,
let’s just say the bench is my spot.

I wish I was funny,
but no one gets my humor.
I’m my only audience,
and it makes me feel more bluer.

There’s nothing great about me,
everyone can see,
I’m as useless as can be.

The Little Things

The little things
that cause obsession;

You can’t explain them,
and you can’t expect people
to understand.

All you know is
how you feel,
maybe not why you feel,
but that doesn’t really matter.

All that matters is
you’re intrigued,
and it’s so wonderfully captivating,
they don’t really seem like ‘little things’.

Letter #109

It’s been 109 days, 109 letters, all without a word from you. I’m not mad anymore. I realized a while ago you would never reply to me; maybe that’s why I stopped sending these out. There isn’t a doubt in my mind you’ve moved on, ha, but trust me; there isn’t a doubt in my mind I haven’t. How pathetic, right? Not really. You still make me happy, even though you hate me. Hate and love are on a thin line, switching feelings is like turning around. That’s what keeps me hanging on. Maybe, if you wrote me or saw me, you could turn around. Yeah. Please turn around, I’ve missed your face. And your eyes. And your nose and your laugh and your voice and your lips and you. I wonder how many times I’ve told you I miss you. Probably 209 times. I would tell you I missed you every moment if it brought you back to me. But, sadly, you don’t miss me. I’ve never told you I loved you in a letter. You deserve to hear that in person. 109 letters of perpetual love could never compensate for the feeling of another looking into your eyes and saying those three words everyone craves to hear. I’m done writing these letters to you. I hope you don’t mind, but you never appreciated them, and my arm is getting tired. I can only wish that you’re happy, because that’s what you deserve. I’m sorry I couldn’t always give you that. I still love you, although I really shouldn’t.

-Me