Climbing for the light,
Fresh air for the sprite,
Fed by his mother,
Watered by another,
Through heat he lives,
After cold he gives,
Years and years he spreads,
Now, here, no one treads,
Standing tall and strong,
To move his mass no way,
Though most gentle he sways,
To whispers of a song,
For vibrant air he longs,
Delighted by little things,
As a venue for their sing.

Dying inside is my creative process
It's this feeling that I'm trying to process

A happy life is all I want to possess
Though all I have is I that I possess

Some say this is enough
Said too much she told me that is enough

But I never was
But it is what it was

I just wanna write beautiful s--t for lovely people
F--k the rhyme or reason.
Someone who deserves it, needs it.

Be
There are no easy answers

The idea of togetherness
Is warming to most

Though I shall not know this tenderness
The world will be my host

Cold and dark balanced as ever
The call few hear, but the word is spread

“Mama I never--- your boy is dead.”

His impact on nowhere was profound
Hit so hard there was no sound
Left the earth flat where he was found
But you would never know if you were upside down