Poetry competition

I would like to challenge some one to best me at poetry! I'm not saying I am the next Edgar Allan Poe, but I have always wondered if I was any Good! I made this 4 rounds but if my opponent does not want to commit to that we can reduce it to 3 and simply put the word fin in the last round! I am interested in reading what my opponent provides!

Pessimistic Paradigm

Plan on anticipation until your end
The final happening your mind cant defend
Caught cheating your way to the heavenly fate
Not enough pain to create what actually awaits
What has happened is not your own
You have only held on to what you have been shown
Deny hope and suffer to add spice to the plot
For those that cant and those that will not
Reap what you sew is only a code
A moral backdrop and bad deeds disposed
Your self aware cynic is defence against fear
Its programmed by your idols, family, and peers
Chase what you know and put it in a hole
The very same hole that humiliated your soul
Catch on quick it could be your last
Because when your dead you might lose your past

I've been winning school poetry contests for the past 2 years, and have very much impressed my peers. I've getting my poems in the school newspaper every time, with all of my exquisite rhyme. I am overjoyed to have some worthy competition, so this round I'll share my poem about a boy's Christmas vision. (lol)

Every time on Christmas Eve,
when bells jingle and and the children hang wreaths,
Santa Claus has yet to be seen,
until December 24th on 2013.
I was awaken by a bash,
so into the kitchen quickly dashed.
A burglar! I thought. An intruder or thief!
He has come to steal our Christmas wreath!
But when I arrived, I gaped because,
standing right there was Santa Claus.
He looked at me and said "You know to much!"
"I can't have you talking about me and such.
"Tag 'em and bag 'em, boys!" he said,
and an elf knocked me out with a blow to my head.
I came to in a room with a ceiling low,
and a sign on the wall that said "HO, HO, HO!"
I instantly knew that I was at the North Pole!
My head throbbed. The hit had taken its toll.
"I have to get out of here!" I thought in my head.
But Saint Nick was sitting by my bed.
"Don't worry my child" he said soothingly.
"I truthfully mean no harm to thee."
"You can't tell your friends about what you saw last night.
For it was an unseeable sight."
"So I need you to promise to me.
That you won't say Santa was by your Christmas tree."
I replied "I won't, I swear!
I will not mention that you were there!"
"Good!" he said. You can go home now!
And he sprinkled magic sleep dust across my brow.
I awoke with a start on Christmas morning.
I'd been woken by my sister without warning.
"It's Christmas Day!" she shouted in my ear.
These were words I loved to hear.
Weather it was a dream or not.
I kept the information that I got.
It was hard to not spill the beans.
To keep that secret it requires a mind that is keen.
But whatever, I thought. It's Christmas now.
My happiness I shall allow.

I rather enjoyed your whimsical poem about Christmas. Thank you for accepting this debate!

Angels Bending Logic

All lies eventually point to a truth
The continuous chorus hasn't deceived the entire unit
Real answers come from realization of cosmic placement
See the system in code of understanding wasted statements
Breath your message into those who can face it
By creating a place that has no space and erase it
Forging it into filing formation
Until all is perceived through notation
Send chases to the end of the race
That we have stumbled to taste
Some senses shy of the liberties we seek
For those that need to be told that there free
Finding that fighting will kill your future friends
We have reached our limit to finally make amends
I'm in this place for the entire program
For every lesson to take back aggression
Now I believe that this was the right path for reminding me
What's right now behind me

This was a poem I recently made based off of a dream I once had. I used to have a middle school teacher I really liked called Bryan Billings. I had a dream of him being kidnapped by a man sized and very obese rabbit. So, I made a comedic poem about the dream, and I am preparing to send it to him for this Halloween.

In his house on Halloween night, young Bryan Billings slept nice and tight.
In his sleep he very much tossed and turned, excited for eating the candy he'd earned.
However, out in the dark and gloom, there awaited his certain doom.
Outside his house on teacher lane, stood his flabby, long-eared bane.
It bounced towards Mr. Billing's door, with much fatness at its core.
With its nail it picked the lock, and went inside without bothering to knock!
It stealthily bounced through the house, its flab freely jiggling.
It had to try hard, really hard, to stop itself from giggling.
The bunny hit a table. A vase fell on the floor.
The crashing sound echoed through the west corridor.
Billings heard the sound. He stirred, rolled over and fell on the ground.
This woke him with a jolt.
He got up and down the hall he started to bolt.
He knew that someone was inside, if he were wiser he would hide.
But he didn't! The corner he rounded, and what he saw there left him astounded!
It was a bunny, with colossal fat,
Who could bear the sight of that?
Billings screamed. Urine flowed. Oh the sight which upon him was bestowed!
Billings ran to the basement, and got a bat.
He had to destroy that bunny of fat!
He hit the demon with the bat, and the sound that followed was a sickening whack!
But alas, the flab only bounced the bat back! The bunny picked up Billings and put him in a sack!
The bunny bounced back toward its cave.
This was Billing's end, for the bunny was a knave!
Billings knew there was no hope of being saved, as the bunny bounced back towards its cave.

P.S. Perhaps for the third round we should step out of our comfort zones to see how well we can adapt to making new kinds of poetry. You seem to prefer making serious and thoughtful poems while I enjoy writing comedic and childish ones. Perhaps you could try to make a childish and comedic poem, while I would attempt to create a deep and thoughtful one.

Again thanks to my opponent. His poetry is far more traditional than my own and I can appreciate that!

Running In Slow Motion

I built these wings to leave this place
It worked until I saw your face
I dreamt of you the night before
I could barely see my eyes were sore
I died that day you came to me
I had hoped you would come to set me free
You left me there alone to cry
My head was numb but my tears were dry
I wondered if I really cared
Then I saw you there alone and scared
I knew you hurt the way I did
So I smiled at you my hate I hid
You looked at me with tears of guilt
I understood the way you felt
So I took your hand and brought you here
This is my world where life is fair
Don't play by the rules they don't exist
You can be happy in a world without bliss
Your life doesn't have to be your own little hell
There is forgiveness you should not dwell
Keep it inside so there's nothing to fix
This world has no games it has no tricks
You bleed here like anywhere else
Just know this and know yourself

As promised, I have stepped out of my comfort zone and made a serious poem. This is actually a very personal one, and if I hadn't taken these actions a year ago I wouldn't have the free will to write this poem. I used to hyperfocus a lot, which meant that I payed so much attention to some things that I couldn't focus on others. So I was prescribed a pill which drastically changed my character by reducing my hyperfocusing by 75%. However, as I started to mature, I was able to use the hyperfocusing I still had to my advantage. And then I became aware that for years this pill had not been eating away at a problem, but it had been eating away at me. So I fought with my parents for a good few months before they finally let me go.
I'm 13 now, and I believe that was the best descision I have ever made.

They will always try to change you.
Your peers always want to rearrange you.
They think they're helping you but they're not.
Stripping from you the uniqueness that you've got.
They'll rip out pieces of your soul,
And flush them down a toilet bowl.
They'll cast your greatness into the fire,
And be satisfied as the flames rise higher.
They want you to be the same,
And try to make your spirit tame.
Don't be put into a box.
Normality's a disease like chicken pox.
They'll sit and watch yourself wither away.
They'll modify you night and day.
And when you ask them they will say:
"It's for the best, just don't resist!"
And to tear you to shreds they will persist.
So don't listen to them, and be your own person.
They want to help you, but you they'll only worsen.
They'll scream at you, and beg you to come back.
To be under their control while away at you they hack.
They'll punish you and say your own self is just a faze,
And fear your independent gaze.
They'll say "You will never succeed in life!
At best you'll earn much hardship and strife!"
Look them in the eye and say "Do you think I care?"
"Do you really think that with you my soul I will share?"
They're coming for you now. It's now or never.
So onto yourself make a tether.
Live on your feet or live on your knees.
I'd rather not be seduced by their pleas.
With you all my life I have lived hand in hand.
But now it's time to take a stand.
I will always defend myself,
With all of my spirit and health.