Don't talk to me about your love,
I've never seen a drop of it.
Don't talk to me about the climb,
I'll never reach the top of it.
Don't talk to me about the flowers
You've been prattling on for ****** hours!
Don't talk to me as if I don't know
That "rain will make the flowers grow".

Don't talk to me about your dance
I don't even have a dress.
Don't talk to me about your friends
I beg of you, give it a rest!
Don't talk to me about the sky
Mine has only ever been gray.
And if you try to talk about "healing"
I'll MAKE you go away!

This whole world that you create,
It's gorgeous, I must say it's great:
A beautiful cake on a pretty plate.
Welp, guess that means I'm second-rate!
Your poems are all meant to titillate
You titter and twitter and domesticate
These themes that even optimists could hate
I'll never be able to felicitate
You enough for the work that you narrate.
My morbid tones you must negate,
And to fix my soul: eviscerate!

Two hearts bound,
Twining round
A thorny vine.
It's yours and mine.

Two hearts bleed.
My guilt, your greed.
You took away
My yesterday.

Two hearts kiss.
You longed for this.
I stood my ground.
Now we are bound.

And then White Winter fell,

The haunting breath of fall to quell.

The light’s last gleam, so soft and bright,

Was shattered on that frigid night.

She prayed that it might be alright,

But then white winter fell.

Water whispers, froths and bubbles.
Tiny bodies swim in doubles,
Schooling along the edge of their world
Where the fish tank ends.

A panting tongue creates a mist;
Soft golden fur, tail in a twist,
Barking at the outside world
Where the window ends.

Poised and tense, smooth muscles coil
Whiskers twitch with internal turmoil
To track a leaf beyond her world
Where the sliding door ends.

Dreary shivers, dark and damp,
God's distant voice my only lamp.
I can only gape at the mad, mad world
Where my glass cage ends.

Dear Past Self,
We're in the same boat.
You worked hard
To keep us afloat.
What if I
Put your work to waste?
My blood is
All that I can taste.

Dear Past Me,
We're in the same boat.
You rowed far.
You kept us afloat.
I won't fail,
Won't bow to the knife.
I owe you
The rest of my life.

Hello, I suffer from a rare disease.
This malady brings me to my knees.
It isn't commonly viewed as a curse,
But right now I couldn't possibly feel worse.
I hear a line in my head and then
My body is filled with adrenaline.
I have to sit up and write it out
Or else it'll rip my soul from without.
I'm spitting rhymes like it's out of style.
I think I'm gonna be here for a while.
It's 3:33 and I'm still awake.
Inspiration, please, give me a break!

I dare not scratch the surface Plato itched,
For fear I'd break my fingers on the stone.
My faculties in circles whirl around,
Which metaphor Aristotle would bemoan.

My femininity is undenied
And thus my musings, when they first began,
Would be utterly rejected, undeniably rebuked,
By one featherless bipedal man.

The History that gulped Atlantis down
Into its sunken depths, has made a grave
For all free thinkers, locked by secret PINs.
Philosophy, no more, these souls can save.

I carry naught but spades in both my hands,
Seeking to unearth artful thought's tomb.
Labor-sweat pours down, yet I am left to merely mourn
The heartbeat ne'er since heard from Athen's womb.