The hardest thing I had to do was tell you to count to ten.
We sat in your car
And you sobbed and begged
To stop the inevitable
There was nothing I could’ve said

This wasn’t goodbye
This was see you soon
This wasn’t the end
Because we both knew
We’d always look up
Under the same moon

The tables had turned
Because my tears ran dry
Yours came in tidal waves
But I couldn’t cry

Our time came to a close
The chapter was ending
But I couldn’t let your heart break
Not while it was mending

I softened the blow
Bubble wrap on barbed wire
Like dropping a bucket
Onto a bushfire

The hardest thing I had to do
Was tell you to count to ten
But only when eyes were closed
Could you begin

I gave you a final kiss
My hands left your touch
And if I’m being honest
I don’t remember much

You started to count

I couldn’t break down

I got to the door

I couldn’t fall to the floor

I watched you leave

I couldn’t breathe

I sat alone

I lost my home

I boarded the plane

But it wasn’t the same

It wasn’t the end

It wasn’t the end

It wasn’t the end

One two three four five six seven eight nine ten




I walked away

But your eyes were closed

I write with no inspiration
Except longing on my mind
A siren call of missing you
With silence hard to find

The sirens sing louder
And louder through the night
I'm drawn into their ocean
And spiral out of sight

I wrote with the intention
That this piece would be of joy
Of 'happy' and of 'wonder'
And not a darker ploy

But alas, here I sit
In a stranger's bed
Alone with my teddy
And nothing to be said

The sadness in my mind
Screams louder than before
The tears begin to stream
And I'm sickened to the core

After all this writing
I know the only ploy
Is the silent sniffles
Of loving a boy

On today of all days
We celebrate you
A woman of gold
With a heart so true

Memories so dear to me
Simple at first glance
But those that I treasure
Are of when we dance

Together in the kitchen
Just us, and we twirl
The music so loud
We block out the world

So, while we sing
'Bei Mir Bist Du Schoen'
I want us to dance
Together again

I hate her.
She is the bane of my existence.
She is everything wrong with the world.
She is the worst thing to grace the face of the earth.

One may think they are free from her grasp but she wraps her bony fingers around your neck as you beg for air.
You walk aimlessly in a labyrinth and she is a dead end at every exit.

She is what makes me tick, what makes me scowl, what makes me hate the world.
She reeks of hatred and smugness, she thinks she knows better but she is truly misguided.
She misguides me.
I am stuck in her labyrinth.
She tells me to go right but regardless of the path I take, I end up in the palm of her hand.

Her whispers haunt me.
Her laughs torment me.
Her thoughts become mine.

The purest of intentions turn to vile green sludge.
The kindest of hearts become the most doubting.
The loveliest of engagements shatter to pieces before her.

Jealousy.
I hate her.

The way you make me feel
Our distance is Greek tragedy
You truly are the Ruler of Hell
And I am your Persephone

First time I heard you sing
And your voice blessed my ears
It's as if I was Eurydice
Hearing the Epics of sweat and tears

Letter by letter I spell it out
To me, you are all but perfection
You are to me as Narcissus is
To his very own reflection

Of every Mythology in the world
I fear of becoming one most of all
And that is of the arrogant son
That took the greatest fall

Each time he flapped his wings of wax
His ego and pride struck him down
Icarus flew too close to the sun
And soon was never to be found

Greek Myth holds many secrets
But some secrets I hold closer
I look at Sisyphus and only wonder
How he keeps his calmed composure--

Figure out how he rolled that boulder
Over and over again
His and the winged-boy's punishments
Are warnings of discontent

Spells are currently cast on us
Some would call it a honeymoon phase
But I know these warnings, we will heed
And find our way through life's maze

A lot is there for us to do
To figure out how to live
But for now it feels like fantasy
The future seems like a myth

Secret messages on parchment
Will be how I share my soul
Until I can whisper these words
Being with you is my end goal

Picturesque life
I can see it unfold
It will no longer be
A story untold

Everyday is precious
With you by my side
You're my light in the dark
When our worlds collide

Now, it won't be easy
But I won't sit and ramble
Because this life of ours
Is just one big gamble

I know we'll make it through
Despite all the trials
Because for you I would walk
Five hundred miles

Song lyrics are great and all
But what I say is true
I can't wait for our story
To begin, just me and you

Sometimes I forget
Not everyone knows I'm a poet.

That's okay because sometimes
I forget too

I forget the weight that words have on my chest
I forget the feeling of my fingers moving freely across my keyboard
A million thoughts clouding my mind until one materialises through written word
I forget the freedom of writing

I sometimes even forget the meaning of a poet.

What is a poet?

An artist?
A lover?
A fighter?
A hater?
A cynic?
A critic?
A human?

Human.

Poetry is art
Humans create art
Art makes us human

It's funny how that works
Because poetry is like a therapist
Some will never set foot in their office
Others will have scheduled appointments weekly

Me?
I forget Dr. Writing exists until my life turns to shards
While I smell the daisies, she hears nothing of me
While I break down in pieces, she is all I know

Now I greet Dr. Writing as an old friend
I greet her with open arms and open heart

And yet sometimes I forget I am even a client of hers


Today someone didn't know I was a poet
And this shocked me
I thought it was obvious
I thought poetry was all I could speak of
I thought poetry was all I could speak.

And yet
I was shocked

Because up until I had been reminded
I had forgotten that I was a poet.

A strange sight to see
I will admit
But why not come and watch
Just come and sit

You may be wondering,
How is this fair?
What will be next?
A basketball bear?

I gotta be honest
It'll be a hard match to follow
Because nothing else beats
An elephant playing water polo

A little twinkle on my wall
A little sparkle in the night
What could that possible be
Except for a fairylight

When we talked about home
There were two things you required
A room for all your plants
And all the fairylights you desired

They're quaint and cute
And I couldn't agree more
A house is so much better
With lights framing the door

They're not the brightest,
Nor are they the best
But they bring us both some joy
And we can forget the rest

When a house becomes a home
You think about it and smile
Because now home seems far away
When it's only really a mile

I know something our house needs
And yes, it'll stop all the fights
Because how can you ever be mad
When you're surrounded by fairylights?

Who knew a word would hold such power
Who knew a single syllable could hold fate in its hand
Who knew this concept could make a world crumble
Who knew that just the sound of it could break me where I stand

Soon can be impending
Soon can be a promise
Soon can be a dream
Soon is hiding from us

Soon is my worst nightmare
It laughs while I wonder
I shatter and I shiver
Thinking of life yonder

The future is unknown
The future is soon
The future is a melody
With an ever changing tune

I hate that word
With every fibre of my being
I just want to live
The dream that I'm seeing

Soon is a promise
And I promise it will be
Because soon is the future
Just for you and me

I feel the most beautiful
After a warm shower
It has created a smile
From a previous glower

My once natural curls
Straighten out long
My hair cascades
And my makeup is gone

But I feel this is the body
In which I belong
Because anything else
Would just feel wrong

Whether I was crying
Or sitting to contemplate
I look in the mirror
And I see a clean slate

After a shower
It all washes away
The goods and the bads
Ups and downs of the day

When I finish soaking
I stare for a while
I think about how much
I truly love my smile

I watch my eyes glaze over
I see my deep brown hair
I wonder what is happening
Beneath my own dark stare

When I look in the mirror
After I have showered
I feel more like myself
Where another is towered

Why must a romantic be classified as hopeless
If there is one thing a romantic has
It is hope

Hope for a sunset stroll on a sandy shore
Hope for a candlelit dinner on a rooftop
Hope for a dance in the pouring rain

Hope for a day to live out the fantasies of books
Of movies
Of songs
Of stories they only know from fiction

A romantic is never hopeless
A romantic is the hopeful
The creative
The inspired

A romantic is the poet
The singer
The author

A romantic is never hopeless
Except in the eyes of a stone cold city of cemented skyscrapers
Stars gleam out of reach while hearts shatter
It is this age where romance lives less
And romantics love more the faces of fiction

Maybe it is not the romantic themself that is hopeless
Maybe it is the prospect of a perfect prince
The concept of creativity and cliche
Maybe it is the slim chances of fulfilment that make one hopeless

I guess what they say is true
I am hopeless

A bit of a contradiction
How can a sunset be lit by stars
The flaming clouds douse the sky in golden orange
The only star that sets the sky ablaze is our sun
And yet the sunset is starlit

Stars never leave our sky, only our view, our perception
The sky never stops being sprinkled with the trillion grains of sand
But we forget
The clock strikes noon and we forget the stars

We look up to see hope and light and comfort
Constellations dazzle me
And yet, we forget in a matter of hours
Only to remember when they dazzle again

Life is messy
Life is a bit of a contradiction
But support, love, hope and peace never leave us
We just stop seeing them for a while

Only when nightfalls and darkness settles,
Do we realise that sunsets have always been starlit

When I met you, my eyes turned to hearts
Just like the cartoons we saw years apart

I hadn't touched paper in over a year
And when I got to know you, I wrestled my fear

I saw you for you and wrote what I saw
I wrote miles and miles about just what you wore

I looked in the mirror with you by my side
And thought "Wow, I'm so lucky to just be alive"

I browsed through our photos over and over
I knew you were rarer than a true four leafed clover

It made me want to write, want to scream out these words
Because being around you made me feel like the birds

Like I was finally free, and the words came to me
And I could finally see everything we could be

I thought about our pasts, our presents, our tomorrow
I thought about how your heart was mine to borrow

I thought and I thought and my pen started gliding
Because the paper was the only one I could confide in

I wanted to burn every word on this page
Because it felt like too much to be called just a phase

And now the words come to me, so fast and so free
I think about how I just want you next to me

I know it can't be true, at least not for a while
So for now, when you can, at least give me a smile

And I’m going to thank you every now and then
Because you’re the one that made me want to write again

You know, every time they ask me
What are your life goals?
What are your ambitions?

I answer;

I'm not sure yet.

They ask me if I'm happy
If I know what I'm doing with my life

I answer;

I'm not sure yet.

They ask me if I've made up my mind
If I decided what shirt I'm going to wear
If I know what my lunch will be tomorrow

I answer;

I'm not sure yet.

See, I'm not sure of much right now.
And I don't want to be.

But I do know that I want to spend my time with you.

I want to see you achieve your goals
I want to cheer on your ambitions

I want to make you laugh and smile
With the cheesiest of jokes and impressions

I want to see you on a Sunday morning
Sitting silently on a sunlit seat
Singing to yourself in my oversized purple jumper

I want to dance with you in the kitchen
While the moonlight dances along with us
Spinning to our own tune

When it comes to life, I'm not sure yet.

But one thing I am sure of... is you.

Man cannot recreate
What it does not know
The sky we see everyday
Is more than it may show

The blue above our dreary lives
Fills me with such peace
And no painting can depict
The clouds of wool and fleece

The sky we see everyday
Is more than you may think
It's blue and grey and red
And scattered purples and pink

I truly believe no one can see
The colours the sky can bare
Because when I look up at it
I walk through life prepared

When I see the sun ablaze
And the clearest blues around
I think to myself, and feel so free
Like I'm walking on a cloud

Memory is a weird thing
An ever changing scape
The mind is a palace
With a constant give and take

Back when I was young
I put some smaller things
Into a little box
Bits, and bobs, and rings

I called it my time capsule
And now it is hidden
Somewhere below the surface
Like words that were never written

Even though, so long ago
I hid this little box
I will never forget
The memories it unlocks

You know when little kids
Come up to you and ask
"Can you please help me?
It's too much of a task!"

Well, usually they made mistakes,
Or had a minor incident
And I find myself in that same boat
What a coincidence

But my situation is unlike theirs
Where they may have lost a crayon
No, mine is to do with a girl
A challenge I must take on

She's quick and smart and talented
And she knows her way around
But my minor incident
Isn't very profound

See, this girl is all I want
All I could ever dream
And her smile makes me blush
To the world, I want to scream

My minor incident
Makes me want to twirl
Because, it was falling—
Falling for this girl

When I look into your eyes,
I see blazing stars that shine,
When I look into your eyes,
I'm lucky that you're mine.

When I look into your eyes,
When I see you shed a tear,
I realise my darkest thoughts,
I realise my fears.

i don't know what to say.

Maybe it’s because I enjoyed the solace of each silver sliver of the salted stream that slid smoothly down my face’s curves.
Maybe it’s because I yearned for the comfort of my heated cheeks, blood rushing and adrenaline coursing.
Maybe it’s because each time I slammed the back of my head against the wall or my hand against the floor I felt alive, like the pain grounded me.

But I think most of all, the silence after the wails are what strike me down from where I stand every single time.
My world, moments ago, was filled with the sound of my own agony, and now all I hear are the remnant wavers in my voice and the cackle of birds that heard my commotion.
I result to writing a poem just to drown out the silence.
Repeating every word back, over and over, not to let the piece sink in or to edit what I’ve written, but to make the pain of realisation stop.

The realisation of being truly alone.

The realisation that only comes after you’ve been crying and there’s no one to reassure you.
The realisation that screams louder on the bathroom floor.
“You’re never truly alone, I’m always here to help”, but what if I don’t want to ask?

What if I’m afraid that these words you say are just words.
That you’ll only comfort me while I cry
    and once I stop
         you’re silent.



My least favourite part about crying is when it stops.

my life feels like a movie
  with you as the main character

i want to see the end credits roll
    just so this is the moment
         that the audience

   r e m e m b e r s .

Every action that I take;
Every move that I make;
Every smile that I fake;
Things I do for my own sake.

It feels as if it's all for waste,
Like I don't deserve my given place
In the arms of another embrace;
In front of people I now have to face.

Every movement of my own
Is another friendship I have thrown.
More disappointment they have shown,
Stripping my esteem to its bare bone.

It feels like all I do is try
And yet relations around me die.
It feels like they were all a lie
To keep me from asking 'Why?'

Why am I not good enough?
Why am I not as strong or tough?
Why do I fall for their bluff
And end up lost off the cuff?

Why am I how I act?
It's not as easy as 'It's a fact',
I feel as if I'm being attacked
By my own heart, ever so cracked.

Sometimes I can't help but think,
What if I'm left on this brink?
On the edge of swim or sink?
No one around to fix my link.

There's nothing left without a chain
That binds you to keeping sane,
And people around will just feign
Every relationship again and again.

Why, on these people, do I depend?
When it seems like everyone plays pretend.
I wish somehow a message will send
Telling me that it's not the end.

I don't want to be their burden
I don't want to be their strife
I don't want to be their battle
I want to be light in their life

Such a common metaphor
“Roller coaster of emotion”
One moment without a care
The next in deep commotion.

But sometimes there’s no other way
To describe this pressing fear
A constant dread of the imminent
The unforgiving and austere.

The first drop of the stomach
A quick fall of the cart
The moment of pure horror
You’ve feared from the start

There’s no reason for a mood swing
No rationale behind
But it happens with full force
The unforgiving and unkind.

“Roller coaster of emotion”
Not much else I can say
My mind is a predator
And my body is it’s prey

No other way to describe
This endless looming feel
But once the roller coaster starts
My emotions become surreal.

There's something so special,
Something I can't resist,
That makes me want to live,
Makes me love to exist.

After a shadow of torment,
After a dark dreamscape,
After a hollowed out nightmare,
A doorway opens to an escape.

A night of no sleep or rest,
Just distractions from the world,
I opened my eyes and looked above,
To a painting now unfurled.

The sky was filled with streaks of paint,
Speckled clouds reigned above,
Birds singing a music box tune,
With Sunrise, I fell in love.

Her golden glimmers on each cloud,
Swift and soft, her slight Spring breeze,
Birds that scatter across the canvas,
Beauty as far as the human eye sees.

An image taken from my soul,
And planted into mind,
A scene I will look for again,
And again I hope to find.

The walls that whisper while I walk
Seemingly pressing closer
Soon to be caving in on me
Soon to be whispering my cries

I'm called on in a class
A sea of heads turn towards me
Like seagulls staring at a struggling squid
Ready to swoop and snack on their afternoon meal

I open my mouth but nothing comes out
No answer to the question that I've already forgotten
No way to take the spotlight off of me
No way to escape

They call it shy, I call it wanting no one to look my way
Wanting nothing to be wanted from me
Wanting to not need to "speak up"
Or "voice my opinions", or "be more social"

They call it anxiety, I call it the monster that tugs at my vocal chords
The monster that feeds off my silence
That hisses at social gatherings
And pounces at excuses to leave

This monster is my downfall
But I don't have to submit
I don't have to bow down or worship
I can choose to fight it

People will not stand to judge me
For battling my own wretched beast
And it seems that if they do
They have one of their own at least.

I find myself escaping
To found places of fiction
Fantasies, and utopias
Fuel my key addiction

A place where my soul
My body and my mind
Hide in seperate realms
All so hard to find

My body is in reality
My home, so to speak
But when I stay in this place
My mind becomes weak

My mind prefers to wander
The wonders of cloud nine
Every thought, will and dream
Could somehow all be mine

My soul is with the fictions
The vastly different worlds
Movies, books, and artworks
Lost among the words

But when separated,
These three grow strong
Living in the worlds
Where they each belong

Yes they may take trips
And visit another part
But in all of these places
There are pieces of my heart

We struggle in life to make a living,
We work ourselves down to the bone,
But never are we thanked for living,
Instead we make it on our own.

Every artist that you know of,
Famous in their passing.
They never know their legacies,
Never know their lasting.

Not just those with a brush,
But each poet in old times
Will never see the day
That kids study their old rhymes.

Each composer will not hear
The symphonies they create
Being sung by a choir
Until after meeting fate.

Fame does not come easily,
"All he had to do was die,
It seems a lot less work,
We ought to give it a try".

We respect those that did,
Not those that are doing,
It seems this way of life
Will be our own undoing.

If we have no regard
For each soldier that fights
For each star that sings
For each poet that writes.

We will lead them to their graves
Just for that single taste,
For their legacy to remain,
For their legacy to be graced.

It seems that man is hungry,
Power, wealth, all the same,
It seems that man is greedy,
Needing his final fame.

My sister is not my sister,
but a stranger of same skin.

It seems that our relation
is all but running thin.



My brother is not my brother,
but a man of unalike mind.

And his warmth and embrace
are things I cannot find.



I do not know the people
society claims are close.

The people society claims
are meant to know me most.



I wish I knew these people
but it cannot be true.

Because, siblings, my life
must be done without you.

Some call poetry the language of Love,
And a poet is one sweet mistress,
But I call it the language of Heart,
Of Mind, and Soul, and Distress.

It is not Love that drives a writer,
But the fear of Loss and Strife,
And with these bittersweet words I say,
One might fear a poet's life.

In the darkest depths of unimagined,
The imagined rises true,
And Love somehow, against all odds,
Strikes out of the blue.

People ask me why I smile
Why I stick right through it all
Why I walk another mile
Instead of slowing to a crawl

I look up to them and smile
A soft billow in the day
I whisper after a small while
“Because I don’t have much to say.”

They look down and smile too
And I know they understand
They know what I always knew
Why I smile secondhand.

So we go our separate ways
I wander and wait, versatile
For another soul to cross my days
To ask me why I smile.

In the right corner
You have a quiet ear
To listen to your woes
Don't talk, only hear

In the left corner
An opinion, so loud
Wishing to share
Words, deep and proud

The fight always ends
Only to restart
In three, two, one
Feelings depart

Reason is thrown out
It's all in the ring
Ear vs opinion
Where no one will win.

It's all for nothing
Just listen to their woes
Cry at midnight
When nobody knows

Sometimes I wonder if it's me you care about
Or my looks
My hair
My body
My waist
My chest
My eyes

You know not of my mind
Not of my talent
Not of my life
And not of my heart

So tell me
Sir
Why you think you own it

It's always

****
Cute
Gorgeous
Beautiful
Pretty
Adorable

And never

Sweet
Loving
Generous
Wise
Caring
Intelligent

It's always

What's your bra size?
What are you wearing?
Are you *****?

And never

What are your interests?
Tell me about yourself?
Who is your role model?

It's always
The trap I fall into

And never
The arms that welcome me

Three small words are a promise
But the words ‘I promise’, are more.
My heart leapt from my chest to my throat
And slowly withered and tore.

I chundered all my emotions
And retched up all my care,
But my fears never left me
While your distance left me bare.

You made a promise twice,
Words not two, or three, but five.
“I love you, I promise”, you promised,
Your language ate me alive.

I succumbed to your sweet song,
Your innocent, droplet eyes.
But little did I know then,
Your words were my demise.

People tell me everything and I say nothing.


Late night talks filled with secrets and
  bittersweet  sorrow.

The stars tell me their stories,
and I tell them    nothing     of it.

The moon whispers
   words of
       worried
           regret,
never once asking mine.

I hear the sky’s gossip and thoughts of
    wilful      sadness,
and the wind chimes in with the
    sound     of      anguish.


But I am okay.


      This is the façade I’ve grown into.


Sometimes I wish for an ear,
          to listen to what I hear,
     to keep what I want kept,
  to no longer be the Keeper.


But I am okay.

fluttering wings in morning sun
handsome bugs filled with beauty
a myriad of lustrous peculiarity

“I only wish I had your talent.”

No.

Being a poet is not as much of a gift as you would like to believe.

You are forced by your own internal writer
to measure your thoughts perfectly
and pile them pristinely
onto a piece of piercing paper
that wishes
nothing more
than your emotional demise.

Mapping out every thought and emotion
is not a gift,
but a burden.

The more language you know,
the less words you seem to find
to describe the ever growing complexity
of the depths of your mind.

Being a poet is not a gift at the best of times.

I’m not okay, but that’s okay.
I don’t need to be okay all the time.
I don’t want to be okay all the time.

That’s unreasonable.

I’m not okay, but that’s okay.
Waves wash over me in each gulp of broken breath I take.
Waves wash down my cheeks in every glimpse of this greyscale world I get.

It seems unreasonable.

To not be okay, is it really okay?
To have thoughts of everything in a field of nothing?
To believe you are nothing in the moment you are the most something?

It’s unreasonable.

I’m not okay, but that’s okay.
I won’t be okay all the time.
I can’t be okay all the time.

Unreasonable.

I’ve said it so much that okay has become unreasonable,
that a word repeated has lost all meaning
and all emotion.
It has lost structure and no longer looks of a word,
but the remnants of one.

Explain how a word that can be simplified to but two letters can lose all meaning.

It’s not okay.
It’s unreasonable.

I don’t need people to tell me that life will be okay.

I need people to tell me that life *****.
That these lows are inevitable,
and that you cannot undo what is deemed inevitable.

These lows are what drive us to our highs.

I don’t need people telling me sweet nothings.
I don’t need feigned reassurance of a better future,
but acknowledgement of a ****** present.

Is that so much to ask?

You can’t find love without loss;
You can’t find joy without pain;
If you don’t go through hardship,
Life would stay the same.

It’s knowing what’s the worst
That lets you love the best,
And every moment in between
Is nothing like the rest.

The people that you fight for
Are the people you should keep;
If they’re worth every breath,
Believe in faith and leap.

If they bring joy in the pain
And provide love in the loss,
Then it was written in the stars
For your two paths to cross.

It seems cliché and cheesy,
But this much can be true:
You must mean every word
When you tell them, ‘I love you.’

I am always told
Patience is but a virtue
I do not possess.

I never sleep,
Never breathe,
Never eat,
Never heave.

I watch others as they run,
Running out of time,
And their broken hourglass,
Is what I claim as mine.

The souls of the grieving,
Give me no remorse,
A job I must complete,
Successful by brute force.

I am needed everywhere,
But needed nowhere too,
For I lurk the wailing halls,
With only a job to do.

I have no time to sit and cry,
No time left for my own,
I wander the Earth’s surface,
Searching only for my home.

I know I will not find it,
My company is not yearned,
And over millions of years,
‘Tis the only lesson I learned.

People wait for me to show,
As they grasp for breath,
But I am not wanted here,
For my name is Death.

The only people that fear death
are those that have not lived
satisfactory lives.

A cemetery is the only place
where stone and flora intertwine.
Opposites of reality
coming together as one.
Flora, full of life and colour, youth.
Stone, drained of all we stand to recognise.
Life and death.

A cemetery is the only place
where the living greet the dead.
Opposites of reality
brought together by the End.
The living bear flowers of light and hope.
The dead carry a stone above their heads,
crushing them beneath their weights.
Life and death.

Granny says the sky doesn’t end
We just decide when to stop searching
No idea what she means.

Racing through
Jumping around
My sickened mind

Why do I push people away?
Lie to those closest to me?
**** everything up in the end?
So blind to what others see?

I become a mindless
Fiend whimpering in fear.
Why is this only now
Becoming crystal clear?

Do you ever get a sense,
Of overwhelming fear,
Sadness and anger,
As they whisper in your ear.

You don't know how to cope,
So you push people away,
That have done nothing,
But you want them to stay.

It doesn't make much sense,
But as it's almost midnight,
I can't help but cry,
As I sit alone and write.

An orb of light,
In a scorching night,
It's taking flight,
A glowing kite.

Twinkles and shine,
I claim it as mine,
Running from time,
With a worthless rhyme.

It seems alarming,
Maybe self-harming,
Bombs I'm disarming,
To meet my Prince Charming.

A frog in a lagoon,
A kiss too soon,
A night's darkened noon,
I look up to the moon.