Couldn't wait to see you
Then when I did
I wondered why

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?

you mean the world to me
cliché it may seem to be
but don't worry this isn't that same old poetry

maybe one day you wake up and realize this isn't the life you want to be living. like life is stopping all the things from happening.

maybe one day you wake up and think you aren't worthy. that no matter what you do you always end up weary.

maybe one day you feel like giving up, like the pain, the problems ain't gonna stop. maybe one day you feel like you're not yourself, like an old book left on a shelf.

maybe one day you wake up and you feel like you don't matter, that every breath you take your broken pieces are even more broken—they're shattered.

maybe one day all the pain you buried inside suddenly come to you like waves. maybe one day, just one day, you'll feel lost. don't worry, you mean the world to me.
—g.l

If that garden does

exist somewhere, be silent –


don't tell anyone.

thy kingdom come
thy will take place
selling health at a premium
to the human race
forgive us our debts
from thy mighty hand
or at least allow us
an installment plan
give us our daily meds
but deliver us from evil
by providing generic instead