sad*  scared  alone  depressed  It  overwhelmed  ups­et  ignorant
 irrelevant  broken  disgusting  is you  awful  rejected  numb  stupid   
unhappy  lazy­  fat  mad  that protects me from the  hopeless  cold  fear
glum  tragic  pouring rain and you shelter me from the  worked  poor
despair  big wide world and for that I owe you my soul  chubby
sick  and           I          think             that          you         are  wrong
hollow                                              B                                               shame
empty                                               e                                                 envy
anxst                                                a                                            remorse
grief                                                  u                                               greedy
poorly                                               t                                             shallow
fed up                                              i                                             beaten
bullied                                              f                                               guilty
unheard                                           u                                         unneeded
stress                                             l.                                             *bored

As she twirls a blood red tulip between her fingers,
dogwood blossoms fall and cling to her hair like snow.
It is deep in Springtime
and midday sunlight filters through new leaves,
making, ever changing, antique lace patterns on her skin.
Teasing my view
I now and then glimpse the efflorescence of her *******,
and her body's perfect design.
The Faerie Queen,
strolling, floating, in a wildflower glade amid the newness of the season.
A ****** unknown to her,
through dreamy eyes, I secretly peer, drunk with the vision of her.
Tittled by the nakedness of her toes combing blades of grass,
with her eyes fixed on waxwings in a puddle bath,
she quietly laughs.
Startled, I laugh along with her.
Breaking my silence,
I drop my lyre.
The strings play an eerie dissident chord as I run off to the wood.
My hooves throwing sod,
my hair streaming in the wind.


*To the poets who sometimes do not feel inspired, I was inspired to write this poem by falling dogwood petals, and I have always wanted to use the word tittled in a poem