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practical poetry: a ragefull memoir

 i found myself in the car today, screaming for someone i lost, shredding my voice as i beg for words to express this feeling that has nestled in my throat for months. it started when i first heard this voice whisper, "oh how sad, to have loved someone so much more than they loved you." this voice is my constant companion, filling every moment of silence with it's opinions. whether they loved me equally or not, i have decided to listen, to this grating voice that started as a whisper, that now screams "how dare you think you were important enough to be loved in that way." 2 years i was loved, or so i thought, and yet it was gone in 2 weeks, washed away like chalk in the rain. a poetic way to say they don't care, and are better without me. an interesting position to stand in. in the hurt of missing someone you thought would be yours forever, and standing in the anger of being abandoned and left for nothing, in a world that is so cruel as to flaunt love in you...
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practical poetry: an expose on my need for expression

 often the world feels like the ocean, and i always find myself clawing for the surface. my family are all in their own world, my friends don't need another person to worry about, so i find myself writing until the night is gone and im alone in the dark. anonymity is a beautiful thing, it hides the fact that i am who i am, and allows for me to speak without fear of recognition for my words.  i call this practical poetry, a title i gave to a series of notes i wrote when i was 16 years old. a series of poems, if you will, that were my inner-most thoughts on paper. few people ever read my poetry, i made sure of that, but now i find myself longing for a place to release my thoughts again. so my practical poetry is revived, brought back from the dead to resume its beautiful purpose of coping.  life isn't always kind to those who were born with old souls, so we write blogs no one will see, in hours of the morning that few remember, to find something to do with their minds when ...
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