Matthew Rousseau Poems

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The Fake People

People may pretend to care
And volunteer to work
But after work they turn on the cold stare
In their hearts hate is what lurks

The Year

She’s as small, yet beautiful
as the budding spring leaves
She’s as radient and strong
as a summer day

A Piece Of The Puzzle

For Liandra:
We sit and stare into oblivion
Trying to decide how to move forward
We are all lost in our own lives


I concentrate for a week and produce an hour of homework
Trapped, buried or lost, there seems to be some sort of leak
I don’t why it has to be in the thinking process of my brain
However, My focus becomes as good as a de-railed train

The Fair

I stand at the fair
And watch all of the people there
I see them having fun
But my fun is already done

The Mountains I See

In the Distance I see vast mountians upon mountains of waste
there are forgotten dreams and hopes
like when little Jimmy wished he could ride a bike
or how Jill dreamed she would become famous

The Spiral

I’m in a decent to hell
A place that people despise
The wicked go there
And never come back

The Lost Cause

The lost cause
the child of depression
he sits alone
writes by himself

Cold Steel

It’s raining and you’re tainting
your thoughts with shots
of depression and regression
Feeling so alone, hoping not to be renown

Are You Mine To Keep?

I haven’t slept in so long
like new penguin father longing for his mate
like a cold winter
I wait and wait

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