If it’s Son of tiger, is small pint, says the proverb. Do you know why?

Just writing what comes to mind.

The live in metropolitan, slave of metropolitan, and the victim of metropolitan.

Often all people want to do is use others just to get money out of them. By pretending they like you! The Foureyed Poet.

This poem describes my inner voice…

I never really realized what being my own worst enemy was like.. until recently.

The one who gives you extreme happiness is the one who would also give you extreme sadness. Love hurts and love scars.

This was written for a class assignment for my Honors English Two class last year. A friend and I wrote a story, and this poem was written by me for a character in the story. I simply wrote the poem in HIS point of view. I was playing the role of Tyson, a boy taken and grown up in slave trade. He fell in love with this girl, his best friend, and got the chance to escape, but not without a promise; he will set her free.

A poem about how love enslaves us.

Is what I am.