8 Paragraphs

( 1 )
He's got fresh breath but is inhaling smoke.
I bet deaths next, he's failing most.
The next step is scaling the hailing road.
The darkest of blackness, he'll stand staring, cold.

( 2 )
No money with no food, he's running, its noon.
He's running to the moon.
He's adjusting, he must be, but it's too late, he's doomed.
He's nothing, but he's something, he started too soon...

( 3 )
Young kids do stupids things.
I can say as Im one myself.
We do rude things but we can prove things that do great and might help.
It might just be believeable, we have mood swings where we can be felt.

( 4 )
Poetry doesn't have a meaning, its literally what you make it.
Hayden keeps succeeding cause he keeps seeing such hatred.
Youve never seen him make this.
Its deep, but believe me, he's creative.

( 5 )
Words have emotion, love has the explosion.
The speech puts in the motion, making it seem like the scenes are much more focused.
But with a bunch of motives, dedication gets thrown in.
Success is the only option, where failing gets folded.

( 6 )
Life is different, but different from what?
If god's real, then where's god from?
Questions left unanswered whisks up frustration.
Lists pinned up, unticked on burnt papers.

( 7 )
I dont know what to do in life, but it is what I make it.
I dont know why I need to smile when I feel the need to fake it.
The squeals and screams of dangers reveals the gleam of haters.
The sliver stream of phases makes them feel the breeze to amaze us.

( 8 )
Pain inflicted on skin gives wicked visits of tense.
Let it rain chisels to sting like missles which tickles like pins.
So literal that im so visible to this wind.
This isnt pitiable poetry, just lyrical spittable sins.