Stolen Words

They can steal my tweets, my words, my jokes

Copy paste these words wherever they like

Get them tattooed in their skins for fake admiration

But they still won't feel what I felt

When I poured these words 

From the black depths of my soul

Like dark blood falling on white sheets

Like dark blood painting the walls and ceilings

Painting patterns to invoke

The demons made of smoke

They won't know when I felt like shit

They won't know the elation, the joy

They won't know the sadness of lost toys

I've diluted the blood with tears

Just so I could write some more

About my hopes and my fears

They will never know. 

I belong to these words 

And these words belong to me

They can be stolen, but they'll never belong to them

--

I need to do a part two of this poem. Still feels strangely unfinished.