Sacred scar / chapter 1
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Ongoing, First published Nov 15, 2020
Never once have I said I was a perfect man , friend , boyfriend ,
Nor gave the impression , i'm no other then who I am , 
or wanna be .

But you don't feel me , or
understand my 
type of being . you
constantly 
disturb my peace and at 
times i feel i don't 
exist ...
I smoke and sip , flipping reality
all pissed and shit 
cause you don't see it 
like I see it ,
bitch the picture vivid .
life isn't ,
But how you live it ,
the sky isn't the only limit and 
if it isn't .
what's more to this life and my existence 
point of living , life is limited
in these trenches , 
way of living .
glorifying my sins lord I need
forgiveness .

I'mmm dead amongst 
the living ,
I'm superstitious , grim reaping 
love is my only 
weakness .
Hate is love , love is hate . weird 
shit ,
I'm twisted .
I'mm a demon perspective 
differences .
hate and malice , love humbles my distorted spirit .

I'm different ,  
heaven is at the core 
deep within the earth surfaces 
hell is the topic , 
malvado , ( evil ) mi tipo de amor ( my type of love ) is solid .

Blm , ( Black Lives Matter ) 
where I come from we violent , yet  ammunition , drugs the government provide us , divide us ,
Broadcast death , violence , corrupt and pollute are minds and environments . metamorphosis , 
it's on 
the horizon . 
If not then the concept of change 
has been 
compromised . 

My rage and your rage , if we came together we be 
thick has forest fire .  

                                   Cicatrize de amor
All Rights Reserved
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100 parts Ongoing

MELANCHOLY | Melancholy drips from my fingertips. SOON TO BE A PUBLISHED PAPERBACK. COMING 2025! This melancholy drips from my fingertips so slowly, you begin to forget I even exist. All of me, the hard parts of flesh you could never seem to love, drips down the drain. I am waiting for the day for your fingers to unscrew the pipes, dig through debris and mess, scrape your heart against the rust, just to find me, so we can go through it all over again. Here, in the pages I find myself, in the ink that writes against my flesh, I will whisper the sadness, the heartache, and the decaying for all of the unspoken. Perhaps under this layer of melancholy, the girl I once knew still exists.    First poetry collection in the series. Original poems based off real life experiences. #12 in poetry. Cover template made by @KaleidoGraphix on Canva. 𝑴𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒚 copyright © May Garner. 2017. All Rights Reserved.