What does it mean if he stares at me
My friends all say he must like what he sees
And father says he must find me intimidating
And I find the stares nauseating
Because
The
Last thing
That I want
is another man
I have to see
Become infantile and the
epitome of mediocrity
No Thank you
I have enough puddles of wax
On my hands

To give life to the inner workings of my mind I ink the surface of these pages with secrets untold,
A breath of fresh air is this release of suppressed expression that now flows freely,
Life is but a muse to the poet’s pen.

Poetry is a universal language that defies all boundaries,
Such serene stanzas touch souls with hidden splendor,
This prose awakens dreams in the heart of the wanderer,

Lost is the mind as it travels across the words on display,
Connected is the spirit as it creates meaning unique to the self,
Life is but a poem waiting to be discovered.