Grey clouds before an autumn rain
sail in my blue-eyed view.
Cold air before a winter storm
filters through my lungs.
Sitting on this felled log
lingering with the trees.
Just waiting for the shift in seasons
to change the dance from rain to flakes.

Words are written
with rhythm and the brain.
We type and write
our thoughts and feelings
just to release a little bit of pain.
Self pain or others
it really doesn’t matter.
Words are easy with good inspiration.
The hard part is the name.

Stop trying to make me fit
In your stupid little box
of Labels and Definitions
Truth buried far beyond reach
Only your lies always
Stuffed down my throat.
If other people can come out
Why cant i?
Your reasons get flimsier
My resolve only strengthens
Your toxic opinions
Make me want to leave you behind
And escape.
I will take my freedom myself.
I don't bleed for you anymore.