Poems about subtraction

They teach you a lot in school
How to add, multiply, divide,
& subtract.
But they don't teach you how to say
You're sorry for wanting to kill yourself
When everyday, people who want to live
Die.
They don't teach you how to deal with
The aching sadness,
The crippling darkness,
& the desire to subtract yourself
From this life.
I know how to factor,
But I don't know how to hold myself together.
They can teach you a lot in school.
But they couldn't teach me
To love myself.

20
Seems like the end of the line
To me.
Car crashes, bad habits, white rabbits
Will reduce me down to just a spec of debris
Chillin' in a petri
Magnified
By a giant
Eye st aring
Wi th
Disdain.
"Helicopter pilot? Yeah right"
Hit me like the last thing through a bug's mind
When it splats.
Its own ass.
Switched my postion from
S
­ t
­ r
A
­ i
­ g
­ h
T
A student

P
To drop out flying u
Eyes down. Laying to keep on track
Low
Blinded, cataract, stepped out in traffic
Splat
Like that bug again
Or maybe more like promotion
Brand New Adventure
I've seen the way the world
Turns
­ I don't want any p a r t

Is the edge of the cliff
The time of your death?
Or the realities sudden wiff
Of: "this is not your final breath".

Are the falling skies
Tumbling over your head?
Or your happy moments in disguise,
From the tragic ending in red.

The conception of lives subtractions and additions
Is the everlasting question to find lives prohobitions

I make imperfection look so good and perfection, stupid.

You could die for it--
Love,
Or refuse it altogether
And know nothing
Except the urgency
Of youth. Men

Have been
Solitary
For ages
Carrying the
Stoniest of hearts
In their broad chests
While we women

Begin too early
Brush the brown leaves
From our shoulders, go
From bloom to fade
As soon as
We see the sunrise

We let our eyes go first
Then there is the limp lolling
Of our hearts from side to side
The tongue we cut away
The blind kiss on the backlash of night
The giving giving giving of skin

As women
We blindly wish
Past the climax of passion
As we vanish into a world of men
Whose ribcages we were scraped from
Perhaps we are born of seeds
Our essence crawling up the stem
To feed the bees.

Perhaps
Every flower you see
Is a woman
And when
She's in bloom
And when she is blooming
Red
And when her leaves are wingbeats
Of green in the autumn wind
Beating wings of green, yes
Even as the wind tries to humiliate her
It fails because
She's in love
And only she would die for it

Im less a person
So i feel i am not equal
More of a burden

We are subtraction of a bigger number from a smaller number,
**we cannot be