The Writer's Block.

"A little white lie can't hurt anybody."

But what if it could?

What if it came at a fee?

What if everything you said had its own consequences?

And it manifested itself into a being; pretense.

The amount of things I've witnessed would leave you in awe.

Enough to fabricate an entire landscape if I'd draw.

I've never spoken out about anything I've seen

Anything I've done, any plan I've schemed.

I've never talked about my problems or ever seen a shrink

I could act before anyone could blink.

Incognizant, oblivious, ignorant, unaware.

A modern day holocaust; all I can do is stare.

Observing as chaos engulfs the world

The males, blind to anything not a girl

The females, blind to anything not a man

While my mind's ready to explode on command.

A guy walks by, a girl thinks, "He's cute."

I see a cheating man and the girl he's en route.

A girl walks by, a guy says, "She's hot."

I see someone who's been beaten, as if a human, she's not.

The knowledge I withhold would bring life to a halt

Yet I continue to be mute, as I lock up the vault.

I feel like I'm meant to vent a different way.

Someway to proclaim my secret cachet.

As I write I realize my words come alive

Images, projections at the drop of a dime.

I close my eyes and a world erupts

An explosion of dreams as lightning struck.

I open my eyes and look at my key,

I unlock the door and prepare another story.

Shell Of A Broken Man.

What happens when everything you know is a lie?

What happens when everything you do goes awry?

What happens when your pleas for help are ignored?

What happens when your work reaps no reward?

What happens when you strive and achieve nothing in return?

What happens when you never attain the life that you yearn?

What happens when God stops answering your prayers?

And you have no shoulder when your eyes are full of tears?

What happens when your so-called friends are all resentful?

What happens when you know they'll come back if you're successful?

What happens when one man's tired of abuse?

What happens when his heart is tired of misuse?

What happens when his pain never goes away?

What happens when there's no silver in the gray?

He changes into someone of whom you'd never think.

Someone so different, so quickly, in one blink.

Cold, unnerving, his emotions are empty.

Eyes made of stone; no heart, no key.

The guy you knew before, is dead.

The skin of who he once was, is shed.

He leaves behind that who he's no longer

Traveling alone; weak, but stronger.

Wherever he goes, no one can follow.

Once the shell of a broken man, now hollow.

Note To Self.

My name is Stacy and I’m an only child.

My mom passed away so I’ve never cracked a smile.

My dad’s an alcoholic and likes to abuse.

I always try to help, but he always manages to lose

His temper, he shouts and yells

So I stay in my room, or should I say my cell.

It’s never been the same since my mom passed away

It always looks bleak but I try to find a way

To cover up the pain and the scars that I’ve felt

From the cuts of the knives to the bruises of the belt.

From the nights of hiding in the attic

Hoping my dad doesn’t find me when he’s acting erratic.

He blames me for my mom’s suicide

He can’t cope with the fact that she died.

He drinks to numb all the pain

Praying that the alcohol will rid him of the stain.

Other nights he takes his anger out on me

Beating till he’s tired or just until I bleed.

When he’s done, I cry myself to sleep

Laying on the floor in a helpless heap.

Nobody can hear my crying or my pleas.

I try to pray to God for help, I say "Please!

God, help me, I’ve taken all the pain,

I’ve taken all the hate, I’ve taken all the blame.

I’ve taken more beatings than anyone I’ve known.

I’ve endured so many broken bones.

I want it to stop, I want my dad to see

That my mom’s death shouldn’t be weighed on me."

I’ve tried to get help, but it’s always the same

I get tortured by the clinically insane.

I’m not talking about my dad, I mean my mind,

It takes its toll and it can’t be confined.

I pick up the knife trying to end it all,

The only thing that stops me is the picture on the wall

My mom’s smile makes me drop it to the floor.

She wouldn’t want this, she would've wanted more.

She didn’t want me to be like her

A drug-addicted teen with a kid at sixteen.

Fighting demons for twenty-plus years,

Taking her life because she couldn’t face her fears.

Somebody please take the time to see what I’ve written.

There are people like us who suffer daily within.

But nobody will come, they’ll turn their cheek instead

Because by the time anyone finds this, I’ll already be dead.

The Haunting.

I once met a little kid who told me life is what you make it,

To always be yourself and never try and fake it.

Your choices reflect your future and the resulting action

Will either lead you to a better place or bring you pain from day one.

I shrugged it off as I don’t believe in destiny

No one controls my life; I decide what’s best for me.

Little did I know the words the child spoke

Would haunt me forever with the life that I’d tote.

Asshole, jock, were some of the words I was called

Two hundred pounds, six feet tall.

Your ordinary athlete, varsity team.

I had a lot of nicknames, but you can call me Steve.

Popularity, friends, sounds like the life right?

There was only one problem: I had numerous sleepless nights.

When I didn’t, I had night terrors about the child

Who had haunted me with his words for such a long time.

But one in particular, I saw him in a cell

He said, “Change your ways or you’ll end up in hell.”

I said, “Fuck off kid! You don’t know anything about me!”

He replied, “I know you better than you think, young Steve.”

He disappeared, I awoke, heart racing, breathing heavy.

I looked at my clock; it read a quarter past three.

All I could do now was stare at the wall

Thinking about the day I’d end it all.

If you’re wondering, I didn’t graduate I screwed around too much.

Partying, drinking, smoking and such.

I had to do something, it was my only escape

From my night terrors, trying to deny my fate.

As I’d watch my friends leave, I then realized

I had nothing, I’d exceeded the amount of tries.

The stress was building up, I couldn't bear it anymore,

I was about to end something I could no longer ignore.

I got up, paced, I'd had enough

It was time to put this behind me, to be free of these handcuffs.

I got dressed and headed for the door,

Passing my parents room, they didn't know the pain I endured.

I stopped for a moment with tears running down my face.

I wish I was a better son and not a disgrace.

I kissed them both on forehead and locked the door behind me

Quietly saying, "I'm sorry I couldn't be what you wanted me to be."

I turned over the engine and drove to the nearest cliff

My body was already becoming cold and stiff

I walked to edge, looked up and said, "I’m done,

You can have my life back, that’s it, you’ve won."

I looked down at the be all, end all,

Leaning forward as I began my fall.

As I descended, a shadowy figure came into view,

It was the silhouette of the child I’d hadn’t a clue.

As I fell, his face became more and more clear

Until I could recognize him from ear to ear.

I wasn’t surprised; this is how it was meant to be.

All along, the child in my dreams was me.

I smiled, closed my eyes and prepared to join the dead.

If only I had listened to what he had said.

Holidaze.

Christmas is supposed to be the time for family.

The time for giving, for friends and being stress-free.

A time to put your feelings on display,

So why to me it feels like any normal day?

From Thanksgiving onward, there’s an eerie joy

An unnatural euphoria that seeks to annoy.

Why choose one day out of the year to give thanks?

Take a walk down your memory banks

And remember a time when somebody needed you,

Did you try and help them even though you didn’t want to?

Ask them what they have to be thankful for

You slept in a warm bed while they lay on the cold floor.

I’m not saying I’ve done different, but at least I don’t mask it

People try to be somebody else and emit

A certain sense that they’ve felt the same pain and grieved

So they’ve concealed the snake by Christmas Eve.

For 364 days you were selfish

And now, all of a sudden, you want to grant someone’s wish?

You want to pretend to be someone who gives a shit

 Keep your “Christmas spirit”, I’d rather slit my wrists.

No, I’m not suicidal or mentally sick,

I just prefer to avoid ignorant bullshit.

Around New Year's, people make a resolution.

But break it before it's even begun.

These things are pointless to me

Trying to be what you weren’t meant to be.

Why wait until now to try and change your life?

It won't erase the past no matter how much you rewrite.

Don’t wait until the holidays to right your wrongs,

Be who you are all year long.