How dare I meander through the woods,
And touch the trees with my fingers?
Nature wails loudly like a siren,
Yet here among the trees humankind lingers.

The grass crunches under my feet,
It might as well be the skulls of the innocent.
Nature exists as a cruel force but
Compared to people it is benevolent.

Smoke trails from chimneys to the sky,
Like black ink staining bright pages.
Mother Nature’s very tears consist of acid,
Which has accumulated throughout the ages.

Forests are ravaged so that we can have amenities,
Have the desired fabrics, papers, and things of the like.
Humans draw from nature as if it is expendable,
And the environment cannot retaliate nor strike.

When a child is beaten by his parents,
The world is aghast,
For how could one so young
Motivate hatred so vast?

Yet so few weep for nature,
Which in essence is that same crying child.
Unable to raise a hand in defense
Against destruction that is so wild.

Our fingers are stained with Mother Nature’s blood,
Yet we dare to bask in Her beauty.
We have failed to protect her
And we have abandoned our duty.

This sadness was our burden to carry,
Brother of mine,
Our burden to carry,
Throughout our lives.

Yet you have broken your shackles,
Brother of mine, have finally flown free,
And I am left questioning,
Hoping you will never forget me.

I cried back then, when turmoil unfolded,
And you comforted me with a soothing voice.
Now you have left this place,
And I don't blame you for that choice.

Please, all I am asking of you,
My dear brother,
Do not forget that little boy,
Who feared his mother.

I remain in the rubble of our past,
Please think of me even as you are free.
Back in those cloudy days,
You endeavored to help me see.

I am endlessly grateful.
Do not forget me, brother of mine,
For I might carry this burden,
For all of time.

I have not endured the greatest tragedies,
Which adorn the pages of history in black ink,
But I do know what heartbreak is,
How it feels to fall apart and sink.

Few would be allowed to bleed their emotion,
Were we to compare our struggles to those.
Each experience deserves notice,
Even those struggles of which few know.

Words are for all of us.
Engage in this art.
Sometimes it will be how
You do not fall apart.

When others slam the door,
You close it with gentle hands.
When others scream at the air,
You focus on your plans.

Explosive anger consumes many,
They react in the most unenviable way,
It is disheartening that they can lose themselves so,
As they live immersed in their day-to-day.

Be higher, choose to concentrate,
Know that you are the key holder for your fate.

When others slam the door,
You close it with gentle hands.
When others scream at the air,
You focus on your plans.

I might as well not speak,
For my words are heard by none.
Yet I will always listen,
For silence seems to stun.

Determination strikes so occasionally for me,
As if prospering only in the strictest of conditions,
But when it does sprout up from nowhere,
My head is filled with so many visions.

I see a course ahead of me traveled by many,
But conquered by very few,
And my probability to succeed is not greater,
That seems to be true.

But I feel like no road worth paving
Will manage to pave itself.
A book does not find its own way
Onto the tall, looming bookshelf.

The pavement must be my doing,
For the result to be worthwhile;
I have not always accepted this,
But then I was in denial.

If you are complacent,
And expect your road to unfold,
You will grow very frustrated as nothing happens,
And you will only become old.

Sometimes when I stare into mirrors,
I see an array of illusions.
I have a hard time knowing if they're truths,
Or if they are delusions.

For example, sometimes I look and see gross skin,
But then someone will tell me I'm glowing.
I'll look into the glass and see nothing worthwhile,
Because my fat neck is showing.

Other times I will feel attractive,
As I stare into my own brown eyes,
Which I convince myself smolder,
Mocha orbs that are wise.

But then someone will point out a pimple,
And tell me I don't look that great.
I am starting to think illusions
Are all that make up my face.