Love the little spider Who naturally spins its thin silken web Love the little pig Who is so happy just to play in the mud Love the little worm Who is blind but still tunnels the Earth Love the little girl Who hides herself behind all those books Because aside from what other people may say Everything that has been called ugly Will show you true beauty some day
Poetry is a mirror reflecting your feelings Moments that has been constant companions When the time is right you find a fountain of ink To birth a poem that comes to life sketched exquisitely
The shy thing It's like a double edged sword I mean yeah it's cute At times But it keeps things from happening How do you get past the unnerving moments When you want to manifest your feelings In outward actions Because no one can see into your mind Unless you bring your mind to them But the shyness is like a roadblock So treat it as such And break through it
I've never liked the word Quiet The word pulsates through my veins Clawing at my neck Flashes in my brain Etched on my forehead "You're so quiet."
I sit in the room full of people Yet I am alone. They're laughter bubbling up and overfilling the room Like the cauldron they stir Full of questions like, "You don't talk much do you?" And all I can do is shake my head shamefully.
I want to scream out loud "Can you hear me now?" I cry out. I am in this empty cave of oblivion And all I hear are the taunting echoes "You're so quiet." "Speak up." And all I can do is shake my head shamefully.