“Croak” the evening toad bellows
Perched on a rock just above the constant reaching fingers of the stream
Greedy hands of water lap against his stone but such assertive motions do not phase the mighty toad
He believes himself to be so large when he is in fact so small
He owns the world and the little creek
The little cold stone not much bigger then a pebble laying  just below his feet he owns that too and plenty more for you own many things when you for once just let confidence explore

Sickly sweet
What a puzzle the phrase is
Two adjectives put together
Sweet can be gentle or just a slight hue
But most of the time you’ll find sickly to be quite crude
Sickly sweet is sugary candy
Sickly sweet is the juice of orange or the residue of a grape
Too sweet it is to be just sweet
so sickly it must become
And sickly sweet it became

I looked up interesting words
And hiraeth came up
The definition said longing for a home that’s gone or dead
A home that perhaps never was
Or never should’ve been

Should you alway
feel on the verge of tears
Like one thing could emerge out of the blue
ruin your life
your spirit
your aptitudes
Should ones eye always be teary just on the verge of a sob
Should one live somewhere they’ve despised so long I wonder
I ponder and
try to Imagine a joyous joy away from all these somber distractions
I mourn as I watch my fragile future dwindle down a drain of uncertainty,
suffering and
restrains
I beg and
I beg that they let me free but they
Reassure
, reassure this is what's best for me

I can’t think
Without stuttering
I can’t walk
Without fumbling
I can’t smile
I can’t feel
One day I started mumbling
I’ll find my voice again In time
I got worst instead of better
Unmotivated instead of inclined

Moved here
Proved nothing
Doomed from the moment my feet touched land
I’m greedy
I’m selfish
Understand?

Grief is never good
Glee always should be
But there I stood vulnerable to a choice that could be