A droplet of sorrow,
with the pitter-patter song of tomorrow.

Rain is the dearest thing to me,
for I am born in a desert,
and for desert,
rain is life sent to a dead land.

I am a desert boy,
so I can smell rain coming,
even hours ahead,
and I wait for it to come,
with all my heart.

For some of you,
a rainy day may be a bad day,
and a sunny one called a good day,

But for desert people,
the good days are only,
the few days that it's raining.

By. Lauren

I have so many things to write,
But
I'm afraid to write.
Because,
I'm afraid to feel.
And since
I'm afraid to feel,
I'm afraid to love.
And
I'm stuck with the same situation again.
Because,
I have so many things to write,
But
I'm afraid to write.

What are you writing?
why are you writing?
Everyone wants to know

But I don't want them to know

that I write poems

and what
my poems
are about

Man gave names to all the animals
So no wonder we give names to our own
To what’s not in sight of our candles
What is hidden deep in our bones

It was man that labeled all the beasts
Was it our duty to name all our demons?
We crafted the dark on which we feast
Could this have any sort of meaning?

We’ve named the monsters under our bed
For some, it’s the flesh beneath our skin
It’s the addicts we keep locked within our head
We’re only engraving our own extinction

I’m bored
     I’m bored
          Im bored
               I’m bored

Help me
     Pressures
          Weighing
                  Heavy

All the
     Cliches
          Traditions
               Expectations

Bearing down,
     Bearing down,

               Down

                    Down

                         Down

Do this!
     Do that!
          Think this!
               Think that!

Ugh!
     I’m so tired
          Of all you people
               Dictating my life

Just let
  Please let
            Me be
                    Me

And still:
     After all
            Of that
                Deep thinking

I’m
    Still
        Bored.