I write my best shit when I'm down
When Im alone
and quite frankly very few are ever around
But I haven't mastered happiness yet
Someone told me your writing is amazing
Yet its so sad
How can one be inspired
One who is unfamiliar with the term glad
Im still trying to get a grip on life
I say and do things sometimes that lack morality
I'm a hypocrite to the way I was raised
I think of myself as a forbidden fruit thats on the verge of being ripe
I bit off the sharp edge of reality
Ventured into obligation
Eventually I will be just fine
So until then if I have to muster up my dirty laundry in order to produce a poetic load
Or if I have to give up
and then start again
but then again
allow that small voice to tell me I will fold
Then so be it I'm human
I make mistakes scratch a line through it and continue my journey to better days
// e.b.
YOU ARE READING
THE FUNDAMENTALS OF A REALIST
PoesíaA collection of my thoughts in poems that reflects my life before, after, and during being associated with my first love as well as my creative impulses. a poetic photograph of May 2015- October 2015. ***BEWARE PROFANITY***
