My English teacher says
all poems are deep and complex
and all poets formulate poems with careful scrutiny
over the course of days, weeks, months

But I say
there are beautiful poems
that take hours to write

and there are poems that spill over from the heart
and onto the page:
the poems that we write through tears, sobs, hysteria, glee, laughter, sunshine, rain

All poems were not carefully formulated
but they're all beautiful regardless

most people see me as
a happy person because
i laugh easily,
i smile a lot,
i joke a lot.

but deep down
in my heart,
i am fragile,
i can get hurt easily,
but i choose to not
show it to the world.

instead of being sad,
i choose to laugh to cover it.
maybe you can call me
"the queen of the mask"

by this,
you can tell
that most of the time
when I'm laughing,
I'm not really laughing,
i was trying so hard to hide
my sadness.

Go little sparrow,
fly with your wings,
make sure you get away
from all the cruelty this world brings;
Fly away,because you can,
you don't want to stay here
and witness the fall of man.
Go away now,
because some people wish to be you,
and they will do anything in their power
to fly away too;
Use your wings little bird,
you have a special gift that can make you heard.
Fly away to neverland,
you needn't come back to this land.

There she sat upon the wall.
Longing for springtime to come,
she wished to blossom into a beautiful bud,
Although, beautiful was not expected to come about.
Nevertheless, she was to bloom,
into a wallflower-
a flourish that was shunned by the most prized beings-
she desired to cut the vines from which she sprouted,
to be erased from the lineage of her loved ones.
She yearned to fall among the soil and the pasture,
to be trampled on by the glorious.
Because at least there,
lying in the fallow,
she would’ve been touched by the legendary.

He doesn't burn photographs
He doesn't join therapy sessions
He doesn't smoke too many cigarettes
Nor he drown himself into alcohol
He scratches his wounds daily
And never let them heal
He doesn't try to get rid of the pain
Instead he let it grow on him
He waters the seed of sorrow with his tears
He feeds it with the manure of old memories
He takes it to sleep with him
And nurtures it in himself
Till the moment when every single drop of his blood gets replaced by this pain
Until his fragile heart can bear no more
And his soul starts overflowing with emotions
That's when he dip his pen into this pain
And empty his heart on a piece of paper
He bares his soul for us to feel
He creates poetry that the world would cherish for centuries to come