And of course,
it's not actually real.
But why must the sweetest of things
only be in our dreams?

To see of life
through looking glass
Seems to show all it's cracks
Fragile,
is man on heavy words
Sinners of course,
a forefather's forced labour of sin into birth.

Still as precious gold,
time is of worth
Treasured memories
of course remain in our hearts.
Lifes not perfect,
but could be close to it with just a smile.

Child of my beloved, O'child of Mine,
we are yet to meet.
I ask of you to take to my lessons I've left behind.

The world tries you to serve revenge on a cold dish
But how do so by our warm hearts flamed by Love and Mercy.
For I tell you to show mercy by your hands as did mine. Revenge should be in complete absence of such an action, only rather choosing to make peace.

For beloved child of I,
never show care for someone only after they die.
For Death preys on us all, but shouldn't aim to feast upon our love,
For caring for someone is harder when they're all but gone to the Heavens above.

Yet let not your heart starve for desires of this world.
For I tell you that they'll surely fail you in the future when Death calls your body to the Earth. And these things you desire won't always be yours to hold.

This world surely pulls strings, but never play it's puppets.
And Love is not to be played out, for frog legs and pork chops don't go together. So don't play by strings, nor play Love like Muppets.

The heart of Man sometimes plays differently to face,
For we are to our own faults the best liars to self. But never let the in's and out's of you move differently in pace.

Child of my beloved, O'child of Mine.
Be as you, take to these lessons to teach your young. Never leave my wise words behind.
Let your eyes seek to be locked upon wisdom, lest to afford you living this life blind.

Not really much I could ever say
"How I'm feeling today
The sky was clear, and a beautiful display
'But tell me why I woke grey

Spent all my life on someone else's broken dream
Close to dying on liquor;
Waking up wondering if anything was still real
I'd shed my skin after I shed some tears
'But crying doesn't change a thing

Oh, I'm tumbling down
'But still a rock in a hard place
Tell me how it got this way
No direction, or any signs;
I wonder what to call this place

"Nowhere"
...this emptiness just feels up my plate
'But I'm still full of myself
Still hungry for attention
I wonder how I got this way

At a place where I do something
and don't feel so sure.
But it isn't confusion,
just me being insecure.

Put confidence in a movie
and play it out.
The movie tells a story of the curiosity
of one's insecurity.


First scene,
a kid questioning a lot of everything before it's done.
"Action", the director would say,
as a character would come up to the kid
and tell him, "don't worry my son".

Second scene,
his doubt is setting.
He's done a lot in life,
easily stuck on regretting.
The character tells him, not to be stuck in the past
"All things are new to us in the bright future,
an ever changing cast".

Third scene,
he feels every move he makes could backfire.
But as the character loves to say,
"you hold yourself back so much for you know you're the best liar.
If we were all too afraid to fail once in a while,
would we know what is success?
We're only successful when we've come past our regrets".

The final scene,
the kid accepts what is and not.
Learning that things can make us fall, but not for us to stay as a drop.
We're a superstar best at home when we're at the top.

So to be insecure is human nature
but a human nature we can go against
So we learn to be the best in self confidence.
Life's a journey,
but not one you let go to waste.

So cut!
End the movie right here.
See better in confidence;
for insecurity makes everything seem so unclear.

Roaches in the back of the toilet seat; a ****** life where every light is like a movie, but all they do is flick.
Not knowing how to shut your eyes away from the pain, so all you can do is blink,—While trying to get over all of your exes, but you always have to over think.
Posing for a Christmas picture, with a smile you only wear for certain people that season. While time bites away at all of your dreams, and death feels like a compliment when she's offering you her kisses.

Hiding all of your savings under a mattress, just so the rest of the world don't know what you have,—when you can't really bank on a bank, just to have a small account, accounting on all of the times you actually felt glad.
Dealing with your insecurities while trying to secure another dollar, living on the wisdom of a father, reading on His word
asking for the answers on how to make a honest dollar.
Tithing ties, just not choke up on your poverty, asking whether there's a better life for you in the future, "Lord there has to be"
Instilled with the fear of God, but you'd fear staying still, when rent is due, and you're twenty dollars short to fit the bill.
Trying to make a mountain out of your own weight, but you barely ate, praying for miracles but you forgot to pray for patience,— so you're feeling desperate while trying to wait. Praying for God's grace, more times you say your grace,
while everything else starts to look like *******, but you have
to stay thankful, so there's nothing to waste.

But I don't pray for guidance towards the next day,
I just pray tomorrow will always be a better day.

Cry me a river,
indeed if you may.
Still unlike you,
mine is much an ocean
Of many pains, hurts, and along with little happiness.

The body of water
goes lost at sea
Only as a drop in the ocean
does the body know my tear.

Vast of the likeness,
likely to all who understand a few pain,
It's vastness broad for all,
so perhaps some of us hurt the same.

Still despite the massive strength
of all the waves,
I've walked into the ocean's tears unafraid.

If I wrote down a thousand letters,  details of the words I pour out to you,
Slowly taking up my time as often as I see the sky, as I see it's blue.
Telling you what we could be, where we going as I look at where we are.
Just look closely darling at my heart you hold, though cut but misfortunes of other past loves and crushes, please mind this scar.


Sitting under the shade of a tree to escape the blazing heat that wears me down,
Often my mind escapes to you to find that bit of comfort, smiles on this very face. O'my where's that once ugly look I had from my frown.
Though I can't say you chased away all my fears, but rather gave me the strength to conquer them on my own,
And I would put extra credit on my pocket device to reach closer to you as I call you to hear your sweet voice on the very phone.

But surely I would write you these thousand of letters for the days I never really see you in the flesh.
To write with the very ink of my heart to paint what my words can't say to you and make my mind feel afresh.
Till the words I would write would be no more,
Till I eventually run out of things to say. Father, Father give me more strength before I hit the floor.

Darling I may think of myself to be little, but together You and I are surely bigger,
The world trys to pull us apart with long distance but I'll still wait for you and I shall not give to the death of losing you to the hand to the trigger.

My love, this shall be us in the future, when we're so close that we can never be apart,
If it means me running in front to prepare everything for us all the future, let the Lord give me a head start.

Stuck in between being
broke & broken,
While finding
hope, & looking so hopeless
In between being
loved & trying to love
In between
falling in love & falling apart
While constantly
questioning myself & questioning God
In a game of
weighing the odds & feeling so odd.
      
      But whether which side I’m on,
                 in the end I feel so stuck.

-my past is a bit like glass,
there's a few cracks; where
a lot of memories slip through

The portrait I've painted of you bathes in the glow of a setting sun,
Each dawn graced with your radiant smile,
Drawing me deeper into the warmth of your gaze.

Your image, forever etched in my mind, provides all I ever need.
Much like a jubilant trumpet’s cry,
I cannot help but sing your praises,
With an unspoken promise to give you my all.
In the dust of days gone by, it's your earthy brown eyes,
Unmasking intentions as pure as morning light.
The joy of your companionship is unparalleled,
Yet, I find greater delight in unveiling your hidden side.

You are akin to a summer behind a veil,
Unfolding exquisitely as you reveal your true self.
As we retreat into the seclusion of the evening,
The drapes cocoon you, shielding you from the world’s gaze,
Granting me a private viewing of your unguarded self,
A world of you that unfolds when we are alone.

Me, myself and I,
with all the demons in my head

A halo above with glass in my shoes,
dancing sharp steps; I put salt in my wounds
A needle in the eye, sewing my tears shut
I don't want to cry anymore. The depression hits my
chest, my buckled knees touch the floor

Chasing shadows; the eagerly darkness consumes
I'm going nuts from always being *******
I lose track of my tears, crying best in a bathroom

I've made a claim to stain my name
made fun of in creative new ways, but it feels the same

I pray on the weight of my sins
why waste another breath if it gets heavier within
I cut myself under my chin, I cut my lips to extend the grin

I threw my scars on the wall; bouncing back at my face
my mind of rushing thoughts is a game of tag and chase
I hung myself upside down on a willow tree by my waist

Cracked my skull on a rock underneath my despair
And in the end my demons were freed out of my head

                                                   I'm depressed again.

every shadow behind a star
-i started this poem with an empty space
a cloudy mind that tipped the skies
with a tip of a pen
i poke a hole in the sky, till tears bled
out of heaven's gate
and for heaven's sake, i must have gotten
mixed up between the skies, and earth being
such a hellish place

i had a touch of love by a kitten's mitten
a soft smitten experience, i had walked
into a bit quieter
as i could never say the words out loud,
to express my love to impress a crowd
but we all want to hear those words,
at least once, once in a while by the one
two is a bit mutual, and three's a crowd
but you have a lot of things you're still waiting for,
like having someone being so worked up
over you; so i'd best kiss you after five

cos every star has a shadow,
and every bright thing has a dark side
-i hope my bright smile won't shine
a light on what i'm hiding inside

Do I even know myself,
asks the joke
Really does a joke know
it's a joke
In the reality of life.
Or will it just laugh it off,
wondering if they're laughing at or with them.

A good kiss to fog up my glasses,
seeing the mist of an exhale before
she steals another piece of my breath

Inhale- we're like those we know for
passing smoke; kissing for far, far too long

I hope this time, I don't eventually choke;
as I always do, afterwards choking on my words
I guess that's me being lost for words- again

And maybe we started off with innocent kisses,
still as friends; a little tipsy on ecstasy
In this euphoric substance,
And I hope by tomorrow it doesn't turn us into enemies

Thanks for letting me into your heart
through your eyes, as those doors were wide open
Perhaps I couldn't kiss you with the best of focus'
still at least I kissed you with my best emotions

Feels as if I'll keep repeating those lines;
and as soon as you leave, it's the most boring of times
knowing you're not by my side

               sigh never mind!

I'll just sit waiting patiently for your reply.

I'm just a humble beggar, with nothing but
this old beggar's song resonating in my soul.
It may seem like there's something wrong with me,
but appearances can be deceiving. Deep down,
I'm content with who I am and the life I lead.

Just like a flickering candle, I find myself blowing away time,
as if trying to defy its relentless passage.
The hours slip through my fingers like grains of sand,
yet I embrace each moment with a sense of acceptance.
I don't long for death to take me away, for in doing so,
the whole world would descend into darkness,
robbing others of the light that I bring.

Though my circumstances may be humble, I find solace
in the fact that my voice can still touch hearts and minds.
With each note I sing, I seek to bring a glimmer of hope
and beauty to a world that can often be cold and unforgiving.

Just as a beggar's song tells a story of struggle and resilience,
my existence too has meaning and purpose.
I continue to embrace my role as a humble candle,
spreading warmth and illumination in a world that is in constant need of both.

Are we not the sorrow that lingers over the grave—
reflecting on the loss, caught in this state of mourning?
Or are we destined to sink into the depths of those
yellowed memories? My bones tremble at times, and I
find myself lost in thought—yet the fleeting joy persists,
though it remains forever out of reach.

We share laughter like tales over drinks, capturing
moments in a plastic bottle; allowing decay to set in
as we push forward. Each night whispers a prayer for
the dawn, yearning for a horizon filled with forgotten
dreams. The thought of sleep fills me with dread.

As I weep for those seeking solace in suicide
those down to earth fleeing the common ground
humanity has morphed into a threat to redemption—
their artistry has forged dangerous weapons.
We strive to preserve our past, yet we conveniently
ignore the ravages of conflict— the insidious plague proliferates.
All the remarkable ones lie lifeless, frozen in their brilliance.

The thought of sleep fills me with dread; for in
my closed eyes I see the world for what it is.

They live their lives like there's no tomorrow
Cos life is fragile as that see through glass
Trying to forget it all inside that bottle
And what's no longer past, just all comes to pass

A life made of glass, a life made of glass,
It's never strange; to a bunch of strangers

Whispers of panic,
When you knowing yourself an addict.
Type of closure of young, wishing I had it.

Tears and bruises
Not hanging with the losers
Acting like the choosers.

Waiting on the world as it holds the weight,
Upon my narrow shoulders growing broad as growing to be much older.
Questioning what is Love living next to fate.

Fate as it is much scarier than destiny that can't be changed
On a lower scale of life running out of the range.
Through the many chapters of life moving through each and every single page.


But where I am in life is not where I stay,
For each and every day there's a dawning fact.
When a darkness of hopelessness smells of early morning decay.
Though questioning if there's anymore to life beyond any of that.

Comes the mystery of a mind behind the curious eye
Keeping close looks to each other being one's personal spy.
Then what is the logic of the definition with no defy.

Whispers I hear across the scope of a narrow view,
What is then Love with lost emotions. Therefore what is True.
What rising Demons roam around your heart's front door, what troubles knock loudly searching for only you.

Silence being golden,
Though lack of sound drives me sometimes insane.
My mind overloading,
But I take my overthinking to be the one I  blame.

To be the if of my nose running on snow,
White lines of the cold forecast.
Drugs men take to blow,
The buzz failing to last.

Why do it still, no-one knows.

I keep words to myself
as like the presence you keep
and present it to a word in small portions
-as the presents I have, as it's gift
present thoughts that soon become
a presentation for the future,
as your strength at times challenges the weak
In a period of how long I should respond
to hateful words; I know at times it takes
about a week.

Constantly saying, "I'm fine, I'M FINE,"
as shown to a man, as a pricey kind of
response, and ticket to nothing close to
freedom, and depression being it's fine
As I've tried to propel myself forward
into a fake kind of happy, one row at a time,
Still I'm likely stuck in the line of my own
frustrations, and waiting to picked out of
that row.

Still call me a sinner,
someone to at least say, "I've seen it all"
maybe to have sin for all
I should have said no, but I'd use that
careless phrase, "I didn't know, I DIDN'T KNOW."

                   Nah, my subconscious always knew it all.

A creative reflex —
Writing as a way to reflect
While breaking in between myself —
This is me, finding a recess.

And if kidding around is for kids,
Maybe some parts of me haven’t really grown
up yet.

Still, if I’m set —
Placing a quiet bet
On all these dreams I haven’t cashed in yet —
I hold the right
To keep searching for my best.

Because being better than the me from yesterday
Might be all I’ve got left…
And maybe, that’s enough!

Don’t close your eyes on your dreams—
you’ll lose sight of what you believe.
The will of your work is measured by
the work you’re willing to put in.
As I live in a house of emotions,
courting words to plead my case—
bleeding through a see-through face.
A quiet ache, always on trial.

Knowing that the high-and-mighty
Christian is the easiest target to bring down.
Careers cut short— because in short, they
never really knew the Lord.

And me?

I live like the world’s greatest plot twist,
my mind a tornado of thoughts—
every turn unexpected,
every breeze loud with questions.
I’ve known the chill of a cold finger turned
trigger. And felt the weight of a sharp tongue
used as a silencer. As it’s easy to shoot yourself
down the same way you shoot others—whether
whispered or screamed out loud.

But those who follow their worth,
instead of searching for it in the crowd—
those are the ones who stand out.
Aloud.

some would pen words—
few pen poetic sceneries,
in the less of lines; are things
profoundly interesting.

We're just beautiful tragedies
all trying our best to
make beautiful
memories

Now is the time my mind tends to think of danger,
When all my hopes and dreams just happen to be strangers.
And all my words have gone to empty prayers.


Along with the fighting of idle voices inside my head,
these many demons that wish me dead.
That creep inside my dreams beside my bed,
that take my sweet dreams and give me nightmares instead.


Now is the time my mind fears danger,
when minor hurts seem to hurt me major.
That slit my throat with a black rusty razor.

And along came these voices trying to steal my smile,
And ten thousand miles my mind walked along the length of the River Nile,
and told my concerning heart of it's denial.


Oh, but I'll close my ears,
to escape my fears, as I wipe my tears.
Oh, but I will stand, though my courage is not so grand.
And upon my hand I'll hold onto the light, though my palm seems bland.

Oh, these idle voices will fear danger,
I'll make them strangers.
Oh, they'll know my name, feel the pain of my shame.
For my heart seems wild, but it can't be tamed.
And at the end of this battle, I'll be saved.


Cause now is the time my heart will rest,
when I take to bed, though I seem depressed.
I'll hide my pride, dig down that chest.
Cause I don't want these idle voices, to steal my rest.

Tears streamed down his face
as he stood before the mirror,
as if it was the only moment he could
genuinely catch a glimpse of his true self.

I should paint out the movie scene, but I might run out of colors
because the vibrant hues of your presence have
illuminated my world with unmatched brilliance.
In the captivating touch of your skin, I found myself
falling deeply in love, consumed by the
warmth and tenderness of your cuddles.

With each beat of my heart, I hope you can hold on tightly,
just as we held onto each other in a timeless embrace
that I could never forget so lightly.

As the outside world peered in through the window screen,
their curious eyes filled with wonder,
attempting to imagine their own love scenes.

But let us draw the curtains of privacy and intimacy,
shielding ourselves from their gaze, so that we may
revel in the sacred connection that belongs solely to us.
As we both had a chance to lie, I couldn't tell a lie
of me doing this usually.

For forty-five minutes, I fortified my chest, determined
to maintain a sense of strength and resilience, knowing
that I had to keep going for at least another hour.
In this battle of life, I have faced numerous losses, but perhaps
the greatest loss was the diminishing of my own power.

Yet, when I look into your eyes, I find solace and tranquility;
a calmness that surpasses any tumultuous storm.
I yearn to see the serene stillness of the vast sea
within the depths of your beautiful eyes, a reflection of the
peace and serenity that washes over my soul in your presence.

       ****, that short moment felt so precious.

I am not the owner of my words—
not the master of my quotes,
nor the crafter of my stanza,
nor the painter of my verses.

I am simply the extension of the pen—
a vessel of expression, granted the freedom
to speak what aches beneath the skin.

But take away the artist who holds the pen,
or take away the pen itself—and the voice
of the artist, soon becomes the pen instead.
Words find a way to bleed through silence.

No matter how noble your intent,
to silence one’s voice is to sever the
soul’s right to breathe.

And still— they will return,
stronger than before; they will fight
for their word— words that once gave
them armour, and the pen, a weapon.

Not to draw blood—
but to cut through blindness.
A violent expression, yes—
but born of peace, wild but tamed,
structured but never caged.
Because there is freedom in every
word, written or said.

Walking along the ocean: my mind was imaginary, swimming
in passions again. My dreams became companions in my
loneliest nights—a closest friend.

The colours of time were a painted clear picture; the black
and white meaning of life written all in scripture.
I sang praises with rocks, mountains, and every living creature—hoping they would comfort me again.

I was dreaming of the end, it was such a dark picture.
In the same darkness before the beginning, I wondered if I
was alive, or close to my death.

Sinking into an ocean of tears, walking along nothingness
hoping not to slip. Trying to keep track of all of my past
steps, spending fashionable time. I was fashionably late.
Wearing down my heart, of the evil I've done—I woke up early
this morning to repent.

These voices were chasing, but I chose not to run. They passed me
over in one quicken rush. And I thought if was saved by the
colour of Love.

Or was it the white rising flag of mery upon my sinking ship.
I can't tell you what it was, but I could say it was peace—I was
just lost in a world of Colours & Dreams.

I touch pieces of Heaven every time that I sleep.

All pictures look the same to me,
whether trending or not.
Won't lock my eyes without a key,
So pointless to ride a wave without a yacht.

your body was shaking right after
you had ***. It wasn't from how it made you
feel, but just the disgust that you felt
—they call it regret

and it was so hard to breathe,
as it wasn't what you hoped it to be
as you were no longer what you have always been
a ***** intention; no wonder why you didn't feel clean
with these puzzles in these corner sheets,
you were looking for a piece of action,
—but now you're just a missing piece

    Sigh!

let your imagination run as wild as it can
but your mind could not fathom the pace of
reality. all the pictures in our minds are not
all so pretty in our head
sometimes it's painted in ugliness and stains
are what came, all painted in red
—the same colour of your bed

                    ...sigh

memory wise of all the
girls I've kissed (they weren't a lot)
climbing every tree, tripping
and bruising my knees (I loved kicking rocks)

out getting kissed by the
sun's bright rays (it was so hot)
skipping bath time at five
o'clock for a couple games (I wasn't stuck in the house)

bike races down to the
next corner (I always lost)
playing t.v. scenes in real
life outside (I was always the cop)

what a time it was,
a time so long gone.
just changing by the wears
of life.

So I got rid of all my children's socks.

Tell you to-
shed your skins
Leave yourself exposed;
and without our clothes
Who knows what-
happens now?

        All depends with the sounds.

It's only for those who know;
he seems not to know enough
about truly knowing the things about love
And how to speak of it with just a minor taste
of it in his mouth

Kissing so many strangers; kisses that start
to all feel familiar
Pointless shooting your shot; what's the point
if we're just victims to it's trigger
The victor of vigour, to prove your victory
of finding love
Oh only the foolish are the ones to see a present
victory, more than a future of successes
And for him,— it's all just another scar

In the backhand of a cigarette,
every smoke rising is another regret
Getting lost in screaming screens on the internet,
trying to find yourself in the comments of a thread
Flightless birds on a twitter thread; sorry an X,
exactly how I feel; crossed out from another trend
I must of been late, stuck in the holes of my head;- a hairnet,
as all I really need for myself, is a forced reset

Under the warm embrace of the quilted cover,
A sense of unease did swiftly hover.
The room, dimly lit, cast eerie shadows,
Whispering secrets of the night's unknown.

Then, a chilling sight did capture my gaze,
A pair of red eyes, piercing through the haze.
Fixated on me, they held a haunting stare,
A werewolf's presence, lurking in the lair.

In that moment, my vision turned awry,
A vivid shade of red, painting the sky.
Confusion clouded my thoughts, a tangled mess,
Struggling to grasp this strange distress.

Little did I know, it was my own blood,
Tainting my sight, like a crimson flood.
Before I could react, the beast did pounce,
Sharp teeth sinking in, a painful ounce.

Agony coursed through my trembling frame,
Fighting against the pain, a losing game.
The world around me blurred, darkness embraced,
Consciousness consumed, in shadows erased.

From that horrifying encounter, I learned,
The beast's true nature, cunningly discerned.
Hidden beneath darkness, it did reside,
Just as my blood-stained eyes did misguide.

A harsh reminder, appearances deceive,
The greatest dangers, often concealed, believe.
In plain sight, they patiently await,
A lesson learned, not to underestimate.

Any feels less of themselves,
staring at broken walls
Desperate screaming for help.

Walls never reply,
they hold secrets
If the walls were talking,
they'd have a lot to say.

Behind every crack,
is hidden hurts inside a black hole.

I always try to build myself
as a commission
Seeking favourable outcomes,
that's optimism
Barely gave a breath to those against me,
because I didn't see the competition.

I climb my mountains daily
but won't reach my peak
Put together all my goals
so it's easier to reach
Live out a sermon
cause everyday feels almost like a preach
My whole life feels just like a feast,
Yeah!
You know everybody's gotta eat
Things at stake only at a piece,
no wonder they all be wanting beef.

I make meals out of my words,
Mmh!
So much so, my plate is always on it's thirds
Yeah! I just live out whatever I spoke,
everything that only comes from Lord
He's a Father, but mostly my coach,
in a field of life, tells me, to keep my eyes on the ball.
Find my targets,
and shooting all my goals.
Another point,
if you really keeping scores.

Yeah,
I could add up all my worth,
But a piece of me can't ever be bought,
Frame of mind is picture perfect clear,
more to me than what will actually appear.
See me blessed,
you know I'm must confess
Why?
Because I  don't know if there's always something  next.
Yes,
so I make everything my best
Yes,
Might just wear my pride a little like a vest.

The story of Today that kissed yesterday,
But soon forgot about it tomorrow
Father Time being around the corner,
Was stealing time off the Grandfather clock
Without anymore hours left to borrow

And as the tides of time
Were constantly pulling and pushing
Before and After were dancing in distant silhouettes;
Constantly moving...

I learned a lonely second is a low as feeling alone
An author of writing out all the tiny beautiful moments,
We seem not to have any control or authority
As we are all bound by Time's law

Building memories in place of your feet
—all the footprints get washed by the seas
Roaming visitors to the last drop of your love;
we’re arriving to the destination of your lips
I’ve found them worth more, than the sum they
come with; I desire some more kisses amongst all

Shall we tomorrow sail into the sea, our love
celebrating alive- as the ocean’s waves come to meet
You’ve washed my face with so many tears of joy
as the air we share of lips embrace, are winds of passion

Whence from your honey *** resides, is the taste
of desire of you, I cannot find a retreat from

Had a girl with the face of the dawn,
my biggest failure was failing to leave her alone.

From her small giggle my heart had cheer,
my words lost, knees weak as sweat broke out as she was near.

A tiny whisper of her voice knocks the walls of the heart,
as the hint of her heavenly scent made angels cry.
The Heavens looked down upon such beauty so pure that no man could deny.

A glance of her many curves made your mind swerve in endless motions,
the thick of her hair was black as night and blew carelessly in the wind's whispers.
You'd fail to gaze upon her and not catch emotions. And you'd pray to all gods that surely existed to make her your Mistress.

But Mistress Beauty was never the easiest of catch.
She'd teased you with a tender hug resting her tender ******* on you, gently making you wish such a feeling could last.

Still even if you played your cards right, your deck would still be empty.
And by the next hand you'd play your last. For she's wise to the game of love and she's won that plenty.

But I was that lucky kid on the block,
a nerd to the eyes of many without much to give. But still trying to give a lot.

Still luck would have me, as I have her.
And often thinking about her by my side left my thoughts with only a blur.
But I was the guy she preferred.

So I had a girl, a Mistress of Beauty.
And though she's long gone to another man's hand, I'm still glad.
For I was first to have her hand, and glad that she knew me.

So to you Mistress Beauty. You were the only one I preferred.

You'll fit the frame
of the picture of love in my mind.
How openly you'll love,
those of us with closed hearts.

Spearhead of words,
you speak and cut through me deep.
The ends of love,
are so boundless. Love language universal.
Who calls us all, "your children",
but a father who wants to know us personal.

Frightened and feared,
from the many misdeeds I make.
Who am I,
to be worthy enough in your presence?
Still, with all my faults,
my mistakes and misfortunes
You love me anyway. Any day.

A child, glorious creation,
servant, of his chosen generation.
All that becomes so different in the world,
your very love is unchanging.

Love is your art,
a masterpiece of your nature.

Stand where you'd always stand
its a stampede: for us to be in one
direction of a standing
There's wisdom under my feet,
still the won't understand the miles
I've walked

As is your standard
we all have to stand for something.

Seasonal changes,
as there must be a summer in your kiss,—
to give me the light to my smile.
And in the course of romanticising, I must
have crashed my ship on your open land.
As the words to say what I want to say, annoyingly
get stuck in my mouth, like something stuck in your teeth.

But as you lick your lips, I hope it doesn't mean
you're trying to get a lick out of me.
At least once; we've all tasted deceit, and I'm praying
that it won't be the very last taste for me.
We both could have lived out our highs of the city life,
but I'm trying to get a little closer to you where you homestead.
Even if it seems rural, I'd make the most of it whenever
you choose to come to my home instead.

But I don't own an address, yet;
—still you can live on my mind.
Even when I don't own a mattress, you can rest on
knowing that there will always be a place by my side.

We'll make casual conversation in every formal setting.
Part ways with our busy days, just to fit each other
in a section of our busy schedules.
And to end it all off with setting our hearts at another
session, as you cross my mind, knowing you're the thought
that waits at the intersection.

And even when the roads seem slippery,
–I'll have my grip on you.
      Henceforth, Seasonal changes.

Till all the tears fall on the broken petals of time,
painting a somber picture of loss and longing,
it will be a beautiful tragedy meeting me at the end.
The sorrow felt by those left behind when death
inevitably comes is like a haunting silence that echoes
through the hearts of your loved ones, a symphony of grief.

However, when my own time comes to an end,
I hope that my eyes will close on the dreams
that fueled my passion and ignited the fire within me.
May my departure from this world serve as a poignant
reminder that a once known man, though perhaps overly
passive, can still leave behind a legacy that inspires
and resonates with others, even in his ill fit demise.

Heart feels recklessly uneven, taking more than it should. Why wouldn't you give.

Sadistic laughs in front of the mirror, finding humour in the scars of the past.
For I force them not to hold me back, their better place in the past. But the deeper pains of the journey through life seems destined to last.

So I count on the age, time slowly passing through me of the very chapters of life through every single page.
And I can't miss my role in this story, so I'll be forced to engage.

Count on the age, but not counting long enough on time in itself,
For secretly the single seconds steal my wealth, or have I confused it for health.

Perhaps maybe, but maybe won't answer the question,
But it seems to lead to justifiable depression. The type for a while, for only a session.

But all from a recklessly uneven Heart.

I chose this to be
Of my own expression
Built up by me
Here forth the planned depression.

The question still beckons on me
These growing emotions grow higher as a tree
Paying for Love at the highest of fee
Unlocking the heart but I lost key.

I chose this to be
Caught in the middle of myself trying fight just to be free
I'm not myself when I act like this person
Here forth the planned depression.

The question still beckons on me
I have wide eyes but sometimes I can never really see
Caught in a blinding light like the eyes of a deer.


It's a planned depression
Not yet a lesson
Just my expression
Of a blinding impression
This feeling not for exception
To the world out there it's passive aggressive
Here forth the planned depression.