A burst of color
A tinge of gold
A rescue from the cold, dark, grey.
A fleeting rainbow
A whisper of light
All of these colors
Take over the white
All of these colors
Take over the white.
Do not be afraid
To be colorful.

Write to tell
Write to talk
Write to hell
Write to Mars.
Write for love
Or write for hate
Write just because
Write yourself away.

It’s always loud.
Too loud.
The world is always whistling
Around.
The planet is spinning
On its axis
A wee bit to fast.
It’s always loud.
My mind is loud.
My friends are loud.
I just wish
Everyone will just
Quiet down
For a little while.

Most of my poems
Are purely rhetorical.
My questions too.
I still want answers,
But I am absolutely sure
No one can answer me.

Do you remember
When things were simple?

Hello, guys.
I got a question for you:
What do I sound like?
To you, of course.
I mean, you’ve never heard me.
But when I read ANYTHING
I read it in a voice
Because I am picturing their voice.
I want to know what I sound like.
To you.
I want to know if you’re correct.
I want to know if you hear me.

So
I put up walls.
I guess we all do.
To block out the wind and rain.
But I put up a house,
Wrapped in chains
All boarded up and stuff.
This is my mind.
I live there.
In my mind/house
I love painting.
I paint wonderful masterpieces
But no one can see them
Because no one can get in.
I’m boarded up.
And I yell and yell
But no one hears me
Because I don’t really want them to
But I do.
I really do.
Illogical beyond measure, I know.
But logic is for robots.
This lady’s an artist.