Among'st a non-judging expanse,
Creative clouds dance.

Through fields one might prance,
Find a tree and sit
Or take a different stance.

See it fully or just give a glance~

The clouds, they form in multiplicities,
Reflecting simplicity;
Expanding creative form explicitly.

What'll it be?
How'll it grow?

Beautiful sky of freedom's form,
Modify your figure and break the norm.
Show me what never dies and is forever born~!

And reveal to us in time what is on the inside,
Usually hidden when worn.

I saw this in the clouds today, when I was bored..

I want my words to be beautiful.
Beautiful like yours.
I want to see ordinary things,
Find the magic in them,
And put the magic on a page, for everyone to understand.

I want to have a way with words.
I want every poem of mine
To become a masterpiece.
Just like yours.

I am not broken.

But you are.

You see the world through pain,
And pain makes the colors brighter.
It makes the value of feelings
Climb higher.

Sometimes I wonder
If I should be broken like you
If I want my words to resonate
Like yours.

Sometimes I wonder,
If it will be truly worth it
In the end.

I wonder what it will be like,
To cut myself up to pour out the beauty inside me.

Just like you.

I imagine that you
Raise the blade
Slice your feelings open
And write your masterpiece
In red.

Impossibility runs rampant within me
Overplaying scenarios lost within the inner land of "what if's" and possibilities
I've been this way as long as I can remember
Simplified emotions, yet my brain is an over-thinker who's job is to make me as miserable as possible
Oh, but to dream like I do
Blessings and a curse if you will
For I have an idealistic imagination
Dreams play out like movies on the big screen when I slumber
On occasion I've turned what I can remember in the morning into a short story
Most lay unfinished, the flow long forgotten
Perhaps lying in wait to see if I'll ever return
This is part of who I am as a whole though, an arrangement of puzzle pieces mostly correctly assembled.
Strong willed, strength embodied.
It took twenty four years to even fathom who I am and at twenty six I finally truly know.
At times I wish others would see who I am right off the bat and understand me.
I just want to share moments with people, to experience love in all forms.
To run wild down the back roads of the country, stay up late exchanging stories.
Being misunderstood can be left open to interpretation.

I am free.

Isn’t physically quick or agile.

Disappears in libraries.

Has been known to dissolve into the physical pages of books.

Is good at tucking herself into the stacks and retreating to reading nooks.

Blends in at coffee shops where her voice can be drowned out by the grinding and the steaming.

Can become indistinguishable in the dark of theatres, in the quiet shuffle of art galleries, the finger-snapping of poetry readings, the hum and jostle of the Tube.

Is indistinct. Adept at hiding in plain sight.