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Lies
I tell you everything is good and fine but as you see lies are my disguise
I have told you that I am okay i have lied the truth is i'm diying inside
I have a secret i must tell and thinking about it make my head swell
if i tell anyone i fear they will all leave me here
here in my own personal Hell as you all say farewell
I'll be left all alone all on my own
with none care that i'm in despare
On the contrary,
I think you did very well for your first attempt at the art of poetry. It certainly does not "suck"!
It is not the theatrical, nor the macabre, nor the fascination that we all have with our darkest thoughts. It is the instinct to find our essence, rather than how we are judged as poet artists. And therefore we are all vulnerable to a certain kind of mutual or cerebral attraction. It seems to me that you offer yourself up in a kind of connection to your own expressions your own way of thinking. I encourage you to keep writing, read the poetic classics. You will emerge as a more thoughtful and more confident poet in your own way.
Peace
Dylan
"One of the best results of life, is the torment of love"
Dylan Eliot