Even though I’m not a poet
Composition is still tried to be created
Even if I don’t show it
Even if I’m hated

So let me try 
To write this one
Please let me try
To get it done

Does the poor man
Deserve to love
From being fucked up he tried to have ran
And still is in pursuit of a beautiful dove

What do I know?
About anything
I’ve tried to learn, to grow
But still can’t find a thing

The more I type
The less I feel
The time may be ripe
To reap the apeal

Oh sure it all rhymes
In correct poetic compostion
But will sense be made in time
To understand my form of mission

I haven’t tried as hard
As I would have liked
Perhaps if I wasn’t such a retard
Things would have come out the way I liked

How hard have I tried
To everyone else is it relative 
Would I be shunned to have curled up and died
To have failed all have and do live

But now an emotion
Once thought dead
Begins to make a lot of comotion
Inside of my twisted head

In the past
False thoughts arose
Do I trust, will it last
The door will soon close

To play it safe
I will always lose
And the hurts I try to strafe
But the never healing of the bruise

The bruise of my heart
Left it twisted and shattered
What ever gave me the art
As if I’m even sure it really even mattered

So now I will try
First learn all I can
Or else it will die
The tragic loss of a friend

6-5-02

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