This is me

September 3, 2009
By Billy Rauch BRONZE, Tenafly, New Jersey
Billy Rauch BRONZE, Tenafly, New Jersey
3 articles 0 photos 0 comments


Some people call him crazy.
They say he is crazy because of the clothes he wears.
Maybe he is crazy.
Nobody else is usually found wearing anything near what he is wearing.

They say he is crazy cause of the music he listens to.
Yeah I can see that.
There aren’t many people who listen to the same types of music that he likes.

They say he is crazy cause of the things he does.
Well I don’t know maybe.
There aren’t a lot of people who consider themselves daredevils and do dangerous stunts just for the adrenalin rush.

They say he is crazy cause of the things he says.
That is understandable.
It’s not everyday you hear a guy talking about blood with a smile on his face.

They say he is crazy because he is almost impossible to scare.
I’m not sure.
Most people don’t walk around in total darkness just for fun, but maybe he likes it.

For these things some people consider him crazy, but there is one thing that I know makes him crazy.
He is crazy for his angel.
People say you don’t realize how good something is until it’s gone, and its true.
When he thought she was gone, his heart shattered, he didn’t know what to do, so he ran

He couldn’t let her slip away.
She’s somewhere that makes her happy, he knows that place.
He gets there and she is still slowly slipping away.
He can barely breathe, but he still is not giving up.

He tries to speak as fast as he can, but he just can’t breathe.
He drops to one knee, barely breathing, arms hanging limp at his sides.
I see her slowly moving closer.
She places her hand on his back, and he manages a small smile through the suffering.

Then he loses control again and has to lie down.
He tries 2 get up but she tells him to stay down and takes his hand in hers.
I don’t know how long he was down there, but it felt like forever.
She gets him water and slowly he starts to move around on his own again.

He can finally talk and stand again, and she helps him up to make sure he does not fall.
They talk about it; he gaze into her eyes, it looks like he’s thinking about something.
Then he places his hand softly on her cheek and kisses her.
Who is he? This is me.
Am I crazy for doing all this?
I don’t know maybe, but if I am, then I want to be crazy for the rest of my life, because I’m never going to let her slip away from me again.
That is my angel, and yes, I am crazy.

The author's comments:
I wrote this poem about something that happened between my girlfriend and me. I'm not sure if I want to change it more or not but I figure I'll post it anyway.

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