Music, in the ear of a teen who needs it.
Alone,
The stars above.
They sit there, like the many emo teens who've done the same for many years before them,
Full of emotions and confusion.
A feeling of freedom for once,
Wind streaming through invisible wings,
Flight to the skies and beyond.
When before,
There was just fear and hopelessness.
The cool air cleansing,
Calming,
Unlike any consolation could.
A self-directed riddance of negative thoughts
Through self-reflection,
And the gathering of positive energy.

Sensitivity is negative
Or at least that’s what they say
Sadness, anger, love
Must be hidden away

Buried deep between the lines
Emotions must stay
For the world is not ready
Leave your feelings at bay

By the earth and it's wonderful, wide and unique expanse
A mother to what is living on it and inside of it, may it be small
or great in their posture given to them.
Indeed this place inhabits many creatures, faces and races.
Each striving for their own path, of staying alive.
The soft soil of the Earth, a comfortable living and breathing
ground to walk on, proud and all connected, only to be divided
By the sea which covers most of this planet, comparable to a blanket
From which we gain food and drink, in a clear registered cycle.
Of course this place too holds it's dangers, such as a quake could
end it all in a brutal roughless manner and tear it from the ground
we build our houses on.
Or be it an eruption which casts a rain of ash and embers, suffocating
the sky above, the ceiling which was meant to protect is our very end.
A mighty wave, which sweeps over the cities, drowning them in
it's lethal, cold and brutal, moist and salty embrace.
It is not healthy to be in such a negative spectra of thinking however
For this place holds, more transient, living, artistic beauty than I
could simply express or convey in words.

~ Umi

The departure gives meaning to the absence.
Because absence alone means
     
               disintegration.

And holding on to absence
               Putrefies the heart.
Because you are giving pieces of yourself
    To a black hole.

So when they left,
         You were gifted with a decision:


To move to the left, where nothing feels right
Or to dream of the right, where they never left

Mourning

Mourning is an eerie thing,
Not always tied to death.
It may celebrate or sing,
May widen eyes or lighten breath,
May bring unexpected things.

Sometimes it is a wayward thief,
That steals among the tombs;
It can alter feelings, and twist beliefs,
Searching for less bitter rooms,
Yet it brings a strange relief.

The heart may not know it,
Nor the mind accept it,
But it may be for the best.
As it guides the sorrowful away from grief,
To a long and healing rest.

The existence of humanity
The capacity of a mind
The complexity of a soul
Fascination
Pulsating
    Each
         And
     Every
Vein.
Compelled by the existence of another.
My body
My mind
My soul
Always searching for more.
Will I ever feel satisfied ?