Sometimes I find myself ahead
Others I fall behind

Sometimes I love to read
Others I rest my eyes

Sometimes I watch anime
Others I'm on Disney+

Sometimes I watch old movies
Others I watch Owl House

Sometimes I want to be an adult
Others I find I'm still a kid

Sometimes I rush to grow up
Others I want to be Peter Pan

Sometimes the world spins too fast
Others it feels too slow

Sometimes I keep a schedule
Others I go with the flow

Is a poet still a poet
If they do not write?

A journal gathering dust,
But a yearning to write.
Am I still a poet
Without my inner light?

Were you the one or one in five?
Is it dead or still alive?
Could I be six or even more?
Could I be ten and you be four?
Did I forget to carry one?
Did I add numbers just for fun?
Or multiply my feelings out?
Or round down when you’d yell and shout?
For I was never good at this.
And all the signs they went amiss.
For every answer every sum,
I can’t erase my only one.

My mama told me not to cry,
cause it stains my pretty face,
Daddy told me not to tell,
cause he doesn't want a case.

I tell myself not to cry,
cause it might mess up my mascara,
I tell myself not to tell,
cause I don't want people to see my crooked tiara.

It hasn't been the same...

The nights are darker
Stained with nightmares
My days blur together
In motionless decay

The day has dawned
My light has blown out
Everything good is gone
All green was gold, now black

All my joy is with you
It truly hasn't been the same anymore...