You Sir, Are a Whore

I started writing again. When I was younger, I was a hardcore poet. I could whip out a poem a day, sometimes more, and the majority of them were actually wicked good. When I was dating the infamous bastard of all exes, I stopped. All he and his group of friends did was make fun of the emo kids and egg them on in the suicidal process. Well see, my poems were on the depressing side about 75% of the time. It was the way I worked things out. Things always seemed better when I could write down what was bothering me. But since all I heard everyday was comments about how those type of people might as well kill themselves, I stopped. I just couldn't write anything when I knew the person I loved most would just laugh if he were to ever find my notebook. I have had one or two writing periods in the last two years, but it never really lasted. I really hope this one does.

I've started back up all over the board. I have a few structured, rhymed poems, and then my favorite free verse ones. But then I have a spoken word. It's about the ex, I figured that would be a good place to start. I wrote about how I hate him for ruining me. How I'm emotionally and psychologically fucked to the point I can't have a decent relationship. I honestly blame him for the way I have turned out. He was such a whore after we broke up. He slept with half the girls he met along with stringing me along on the side. It kind of sucked hardcore. And it messed me up, I'm the first to admit it.

If I get something toegther enough, I may share it with you. Until then, so long my loves.