I found this at the bottom of just one of my many piles of old poems. After so long the ones I framed and read so proudly start to turn meaningless and without substance. Perhaps I just grow up or maybe grow out of that situation and look at it with a new found perception. Anyways I find the following so incredibly ridiculous that I had to share it's stupidity with everyone else...
(I promise I can write better than this!)

It's like a perpetual motion;doubts of you flooding my mind while I swim in what I can't decipher as opportunity or waste...? Should I embrace this chance to assert my far fetched hopes;my possibly brash aspirations for a substantial future? Even if I found the words, could I speak aloud the dreams I made not intended for temporary amusement, but rather inspirational goals to seek until found...? Blind eyes can see its a risk-
What happens when your promises and claim become the dirt I trudge upon, and the dust that ruthlessly blows into my tearing eyes...? This familiar dilemma is my re-occuring dream; the deja vu I sit perplexed and confused in.

Once was scolded; castigated for not opening up and revealing the above. EndlesslyI was reprimanded for fearing that what I dread may perhaps become reality, in the instant they are exposed to a manipulating conscious that I have no inclination of. Believing in that beautiful face I'd frame in an intangible heart, I gave myself away.
Said goodbye to my secrets, wishes, and dreams then let them descend so casually while keeping no boundary for myself. Soon I was deploringly watching them fall carelessly to the asphalt with no regard like insignificant

Rain Drops

Drops that formed dirty, small puddles in his world. Merely common puddles among many just as monotonous and mundane, that he payed no mind at all to
And walked all over without flinching.