When I first wrote this, it was scratchy and a very rough draft. But now I’ve finished it and I wanted to share it with everyone. It’s a poem not about love per say, but more about everyone around me who (call me hipster, but whatever) thinks that they know me but they don’t have a clue.

The Time Traveling Writer's Blog

You know what kept me going?

No it wasn’t you and you’re, “I’ll always be there or here or where or anything.”

No it wasn’t her waking me up saying, “You’ve got school today.”

No it wasn’t his, “I think you’re a pretty cool kid.”

And it wasn’t their, “We’ll come over after we finish homework.”

It was never any of them or you or anybody or anything.

It was me at three am…

Staring at the ceiling with tears streaming down my face,

As the devil danced the foxtrot on my heart.

With his little white hot iron feet, burning holes in my veins and arteries,

He whispered in my ears the wicked lies I’ve been told by others,

And the poisoned thoughts that I’ve conditioned myself to believe.

“Come child and take my hand,” his devilishly angelic voice hissed in my ears.

“Come and I’ll help you stand.”…

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