I've found myself lost,
Drifting around in a
Series of complex caverns,
Spinning from one dead end
To another inside the
Terrible length of tunnels
In which I've found myself.
This maze of which I can't escape,
I cannot decide which way to go
I do not know
Which way is out,
And how do I choose,
What way to cruise,
Left or right?
I cannot tell,
Wouldn't someone ring the bell?
Break this spell,
That keeps me dazed,
Unfazed inside my jail,
Which is my mind.
I'm trapped in a bind,
It is now time,
I've not gotten ready,
I'm not prepared,
My legs aren't steady,
My heart is scared.
Where do I want to go or be?
Here or there?

You cannot capture my heart
When it is already kept in a cage

When I picture my own funeral,
I see a young person in a box.
She is never old.
And though I am sure my family is there,
I forget to paint them in.
I see other young people
Sad, but mostly occupied
By whispering of my newly exposed secrets.
And the people I truly care about,
The only ones with nice things to say--
Simeon the ice cream man,
Ronny the busker,
Adam the hobo,
Maria the dream and Maria the ghost,
Hoodie Man the hero,
And Chris the ****** addict,
Are nowhere to be found,
For how could they have heard the news?
And a few years later,
When they realize I have not made an appearance
In quite some time
They will wonder what happened
To that girl they called solitude
And smile because they can only assume
That most likely I finally left the country
To follow my dream
And try to be happy.
And they will live the rest of their lives
Completely unaware
That my grave longs to be pressed on
By their feet
And my flowers watered
By their tears.

With lips
Like Hershey Kisses,
So sweetly,
You draw me in.

Like honey dripping
To a fly,
You draw me in.

Like a beautiful
And smelling flower
to a bee flying free,
You draw me in.

Like a smoker
Wanting their
Nicotine,
You draw me in.

With a grin
Not unlike a
Crescent moon's,
You draw me in.

Like an alcoholic
searching for
one last drop of Gin,
You draw me in.

Like a little lamb,
Drawn to a lion
In search of a friend,
You draw me in.

With a pen to a paper,
Like a sword to a foe,
I write poetry,
And present it to the world,
Like a present with a bow.
Letting the words
fill my paper.
Watching them take flight
Like many birds
drifting across updrafts in the wind.
And I will send
Them like a "get well" card
To every person who needs a friend.
Poetry is a healing process.
A coping system
A cure
A medicine for those in need.
Poetry is a dream
In which you don't
Have to scream
Unless you want to.
A dream that you control,
A beam that you can hold,
A story yet untold,
Perfectly crafted jewel,
With scripture writ in gold.