How do I put it like it hasn't been before?
How do I say it without it tumbling into a bore?
How do I pronounce, in one word, what has to be heard?
How do I write in ways it will not be forgotten?

Is it metaphores like birds and flying?
Is it with fire of dire rhyming?
Is it rambling about loving or dying
or even such harsh expressions it is lying?

With bodies, with intertwining eyes, if not the rotting of a heart.
I'd try with poems, paintings and precious works of art.

But its purpose remains absent
like a dead language in the present.

There's a mountain here of dirt.
It's so filthy and muddy it's kind of absurd.
I am king and I lead. I'm generous to agree,
the less they bleed the better my degree.

I'm a student god, handling the basic 'how to do's'
of this dirt mountain not a single ant would choose.
My land is forsaken and I have to save
the lives of the useless and those of the brave.

My teacher god is greater, I cannot contain,
the things he does, the power he has, rain
or drought, floods and quakes, how do I maintain
the lives of the many. I'm no divine clerk.
It feels pointless when he influences anything I do.
I think I need to resign. But if I stop my work,
how can I believe he did not do too.

There she sat, across me in this train compartment.
She was a lot like I recalled, daunting,
how she almost, besides changes in deportment,
stayed the same. I forever keep on wanting
to tell her the truth.

All we do anymore is say hi,
while we used to talk for hours,
it has become easier to say bye.
There are greater love stories than ours.

It dazzles me to come across the facts,
we care less and less about the acts
so poorly put aside.
I think I lost, my love, so I'll let it slide.

Teach me, singer.
Teach me, lover.
Teach me, teacher.
Teach me, clover.

To sing about love,
to learn about luck.
Teach me to be
whoever I wish to.
However not to be alone...

I'll learn that on my own.