This is my stupid emo poem.

I keep it on my bed to write in forever.

I stain it with blue and maroon mascara tears,

And I wipe my nose in it occasionally.

I have stupid emo poems for my stupid emo thoughts.

If you read them, you'd think it's like William Faulkner, without an editor.

Where the sentences go on and on, and sometimes--they have punctuation in between.

They take on new meanings as I write them.

Starting out with one conceit and moving to another one.
Do you know where the poem went? Or how it got there?

Well, yea, neither do I, and I'm the writer.

They can be just about anything.

Couches and chairs to stupid things.

Remote controls and shoe-fly wings.

Rhyming is an ancient thing.

Though it's dumb to rhyme the same thing with thing.

I write because I cannot talk

About the difficult things that happen to me.

Not difficult--like traumatic or sad.

Just normal stuff that makes me mad.

Usually the emotion that gets in my way...

I must get it out 'fore I can start my day.

So thanks for reading my emo poem.

This really isn't one of those.

It's just some stuff that's an apology about all of my other emo poems.

The ones I never show anybody. Because I'm not really depressed.

I don't wear black eye-liner and blue lipstick.

I mean, I laugh during the day and stuff.

It's just sometimes, I'm sad, when I'm home alone at night and the t.v.'s not on.

My thoughts can wander to all sorts of crazy things that I try to forget and go to sleep

But they come back in the morning, so I write an emo poem, and don't show it to anybody.