I am walking down this beautiful path,
Made up of strong desires.

In between all these tall trees,
Representing my confidence.

Breathing in the calmest air of forgiveness,
And breathing out the greatest regrets.

I am growing into a big tree,
Watered with self-love and patience.

I am walking into the woods,
Where I found the realest me.

We are like trees.
Growing tall with greenery.
Dusty brown soil,
dry cracked leaves.

Wrapped with vines.
Climbed by twisted plant.
They crept along the ground,
they clung onto our skin.

The tree is us.
We grow old with emotions.
Dark ugly hatred,
beautiful fragile heart.

Embraced with thoughts.
Trailed by twisted world's plot.
They followed along our life.
They stuck in our mind.

A poet is a tree.
Watered with tears.
Sunned with laughter,
Cut down by harmful words.

A tree is a poet.
Being called a home.
By birds and humans,
who always come and go.

I'd like to be alone,
but I don't want to be lonely.

I'd like to be in hope,
but I don't want to be hopeless.

I'd like to be in love,
but I don't want to be broken.

I'd like to be sad,
but I don't want to be weak.

I am adept
In the art of being okay
I have mastered the craft
Of covering my troubles
I use all sorts of fancy facades
Acrylic, oil, watercolor
You name it.

I can paint over nearly anything

You will never know
How late I was up last night
Or why.

My eyes flicker
Like candlelight
But you couldn’t see
You couldn’t possibly see
I’m too good
For that.

I can dance, too
Waltzing away my sorrows
Carefully tip toe-ing the
Pas-de-I-am-fine
I get a standing ovation every time

I’m very talented, you see.

But my all time favorite
Is my disappearing act
I’m still perfecting it
Right now
But one of these days
I’ll show you
How I
Slip
Slip
Slip
Away

Right through your fingers.