Long ago there were some tracks,
That ran behind my house.
But then they tore it down and now,
It's just a walking trail.
If you listen close at night,
You'll hear the whistle yell.

You'll think you're hearing things,
You'll think you've gone insane.
But then you'll hear the story of,
And know you're quite alright.
The walking trail is safe,
Unless you go at night.

There used to be a train track,
Which ran behind my house.
I lay in bed at night,
And hear the whistle yell.
You'll think you're crazy though,
Cause there are no train tracks near.

The Lillies bring you peace,
They can even be an animal.

The breath of babies,
The man that's hanging.

Roses are many different colors than just red,
Those colors having different meanings.

Violets can be the color of their name,
They can also be the color blue.

Some flowers are from the sun,
Others are not as bright.

Daisies and Lillies can be in a prarie,
Others don't even sprout from the ground.

My best friend is my favorite flower,
Even though she's not an actual.

Flowers are bright and colorful,
While others can be dull at times.

She is as beautiful as anyone's favorite flower,
Looks wise and personality.

She's almost always bright,
But everyone and thing had their moments.

The moment we meet she had me hooked,
I never knew I was missing anything till I found her.

When people are sick they ate given flowers,
Or even is they just need them.

Good saw we needed some flowers,
But he had a plan.

He gave us each one flower a piece,
He knew just the one would suffice.

He knew we would help the other,
He knew she'd be the perfect flower,  for a damaged one like me.

Hi, I'm an insecure poet
Just like I don't like myself
I don't like my poetry
I don't know but sometimes
My poems aren't just it
They are unclear and weird
Like my personality is
They're short and stout
Just like I look physically
They sometimes rhyme too much
Like I overdue too much
Sometimes the free verses
Seem like the amateur I am
And everything's clichéd
Like my creativity got ******
They're hairy and dark
And ugly and scarred
But most of the time
They're just all over
All over excellence
Just like my neighbour
Is all over men
And I try too hard
I get all over it
But when I let go
No matter that I'm fat
The breeze carries me forth
No matter that I'm dark
I shine
And my creativity
Crawls out of crevices  
To create poetry
That warms the soul

It starts off so pretty,
So fresh and bright.
It withers away
When not given light.

Some days
In the dark of the night.
It fades away,
Without a fight.

Hold close to your heart,
Don't give it away.
Unless you're sure
It won't wither away.

Your love was like a dull needle,
Mine was the defenseless balloon.
The closer we got,
The more your love would sharpen.

I thought I was safe,
You would never harm me.
But it seemed you couldn't help yourself,
For you were growing sharper.

You are now the needle,
I'm the fragile balloon.
It started to hurt a bit,
A scab here, another wound there.

I thought I would heal fully,
But the more we tried, the more I hurt.
You became the sharpest needle,
And I, the deflated balloon.

The calm water dances around my body as it floats,
I am at peace.
The twinkling freckles of the night sky are known,
And the moon smiles down at me.

The crickets are chirping so loudly,
Singing along with the croaking frogs of spring.
So many beings are making noise,
They are my favorite band.

It's so calm out here,
I feel this is where I should sleep.
For my bed is not nearly as peaceful,
As drifting among the pool at night.