Heaven rained on me,
I breathed in the petrichor,
Bathed in the downpour.

there is no
perfection

there is
trying and

learning
changing

to adapt
to truth

the reality
we all face

if we are
honest

with
ourselves

Values cave when built upon the riches
of a dead man, whose soul was fed by the hands of greed.

Poetry
Releases me
From my world
Of warmth. From the
Edges of the environs.



Do
Not worry about
It being safe. For my lover
Has my back.



Caressing
Ideas into
My head. She whispers.



She
Is my
Cosy cloak
My warm milk,
While the emotions of
My heart spits 'chilly' like the
Climate of  Winter fell.



She
Is my
Three-eyed raven.
I am her Brian-the-broken
Even in the darkest of nights
She illuminates upon my pain.



She is poetry.
The food I feast on.
The liquid which I gulp.

I tell myself I lie awake at night because I like the peacefulness,
It’s quiet and I like the silence.
No one can bother me,
I can do what I like.

It’s far from peaceful, the silence unwelcome.
Along with it comes the thoughts.
No one has checked on me in days.
Maybe I’ll do what I crave.