Dream after dream,
he keeps appearing,
why in my dream?
to suppress that feeling,
but it's not working,
so therefore I lay back down,
and continue dreaming.

Deep across the ocean,
beneath the blue oak tree,
I once had a  picnic there,
with an old bumblebee.

So let me tell you a story,
about this bumblebee,
it's not like the others,
no, this one was free.

Free to zoom across the fields,
in the old sunlight,
but one wish is all,
that crossed it's mind.

So I sat there,
under this blue oak tree,
I listen to his tale,
of the land and the sea.

It started long ago,
a day before I was born,
a farmer came down,
hoping to harvest some corn.

Just as he past,
the majestic tree,
oh he could not believe,
the sound of zooming bees.

Honey was better,
than harvesting corn,
for this was from a blue oak...

*And to this I must stop,
no not just the bee's tale,
for I am having a writer's block,
you deserve to know...

So here I apologize,
let your imagination go wild,
but one more thing you should realize,
this story was meant for a child.

Oh my fandoms,
How dare you,
you leave me in silence.
after the violence,
you leave me in sorrow,
when there's no tomorrow,
when the character dies,
it's all just lies,
you mess with our hearts,
as we wait for the next part,
as for our otps,
you ignore our pleas,
then we turn to tumblr,
a site where we gather,
we talk about feels,
and help each other heal,
but nothing makes us more happy,
than Sherlock season three.

In this January weather,
I'm feeling cold,
maybe it's an inner chill that has built up within me.

Why is it?
I am bored.

Why do I?
keep wishing for Friday to come.

It's Thursday morning,
so why am I?
wishing this day would end.

Shouldn't I?
I should,
use this day to the fullest,
But why don't I?

The feeling of boredom,
it still overwhelms me.

It's my first class of the day,
and here I am,
I'm still sitting with boredom,
but as I do,
I thought of a poem,
and this poem,
it sank into me,
it's not the smoothest poem,
but it tells my thoughts...