Beauty of the wings,
Swaying freely through the air,
In the day of spring,
Without an ounce of care

Swiftly cutting through the breeze,
Colorful and shy,
Caught the attention of me,
Now locked in the eye,

The feeling of striking gold,
Arm out, hoping for a land,
To nurture, cherish and hold,
Colors shot to my hand,

Slowly to the tip of the thumb,
The colors shined most up close,
My heart froze and become numb,
Butterflies is what I have I suppose.

Here I am, kneeling to you my king,
I will speak the words of truth,
For the price of your crown,
oh what a marvelous thing,
It being embedded with diamonds and gems,
I suppose the one most important disappeared from your hands,
What is a king without a queen?
Behind every great man is a woman,
Oh, I am a man of many tastes and signicant means,
But I value something more than gold,
I value this more than the widest of seas and the shinest of sunsets,
I have not taken her away from you,
You yourself have pushed her away,
Is it when she is away that you then value her most?
Such pity I have on your soul,
For a man of stature, I'd thought you know better than so,
That it is not a king that makes a kingdom,
That being free does not equate to freedom,
I do not desire your riches and gold,
I wish you to learn from this story being told,
That to have her back, you must step down,
Now please do so and hand over the crown

Love is love,
Distance will never separate us,
If I ever loved you, I always will
From the bottom of heart, this is sincere
Time will never change how I feel,
I’ll love you for what you are and love you for what you showed me,
Because without meeting you where I would be?
I am who I am because of you,
I’ve grown as an individual as of the last time we spoke,
Whether that will change your opinion of me who knows,
Just know I’m thankful for the things you did and the things you said,
For the words of advice sent through text message,
The belief you had in me when I didn’t believe in myself,
A friendship that you had blessed me with,
These days I’ve come to appreciate the little things,
How nowadays I’ve so comfortable in my own skin,
I remember the days I felt like I was someone else,
A standout among the crowd,
Standing out too long that I actually fell,
Into this deepened sadness that I’d never get myself out of,
But there was your hand, leaning out
To help me stand, but not out,
Today, I know who I am
There’s no way to explain my gratitude for your actions
Our communications as of late have been as good as static,
Hopefully it doesn’t cut me off when I say the thing that truly matters,
Love is love, I hope you found yourself after all these hours

For every step I take
For everything I say
The truth will bleed true,
For what I write is old,
Never will you ever choose,
What I write is cold,
Hearted,
Playing these tunes,
Light images with darker meanings,
Sight seeing with your ears,
Hearing waterfalls in the night,
Blindness is in your eyes,
These words I write,
Are for those who see with more than just their eyes,
While the splashes may ring loud,
There is much more than just the sound,
The way in which it collides,
Blindness of the mind is poisonous,
Cold facts are potent,
Listen,
Maybe it was a dragon who made the splash (TBT)

Writer : Imagination

Stick out your hand,
Allow your words to speak loud,
Come forth to my stand,
Speak the words of truth,
And you will be compensated with loot,
Speak the words of lies,
And you will be compensated with loot,
For when I see your face, through your eyes I will have received my proof
I value all humans the same,
Some are ****** and unchanged,
Stubborn to their self-serving ways,
I will not judge you for your mistakes,
I might sit amongst this throne,
But that is not my place,
I am a simple man,
I give you my hand in the act of trust,
I bestow this upon you and all my people,
For you will be relinquished by God’s love,
Even when a man of power can not make you change,
There is hope in your guilt,
A plague in your greed,
That when you have all that you want, you’ll never have what you need
I ask of you to speak words of honesty,
For we were once that of the same status
I was once like yourself,
I plead,
There is no time to wait,
For the words you speak now have worth,
Unravel your mind my fine sir,
Tell me the whereabouts, where have they taken her???

The symphony begins, once we pull heart strings the tears release from within, empathy to an extent that you feel a kick to the chest, with a moment to breathe and reflect, nobody’s perfect, who am I ? the man who hides between these lines?, the man with a disguise? the writer who finds weakness in your eyes? the watchman who can’t tell time? who am I to live a life that is not mine? to say when time passes by, I was right, to present acts of your life, who am I to not orchestrate these signs, to allow others to affect your mind, who are you to tell me what I write is not right? Who are they to blind a pen on it’s insight? Who are we to not question who we are on the inside? I am the product of experience, I am a book half written, against these emotions that pull from every direction, I am human, fear, sadness, happiness, anxiety, stress, all the feelings we dissolve in on a day to day basis, who am I? let’s begin with the basics, I’m scared to fail, to let people down on an exponential scale, to rise and come so close to my goals, to hurt the people I love the most, I’m sad for the people I’ve lost, for all the confusion I caused, for never being able to take fault, for being here too long, I’m happy with everything I have, with the task that’s placed at hand, with where I am, with where I am bound to land, I’m full of anxiety, anticipating a length of wait, walking blindly into my fate, losing myself in my old ways, getting myself lost in memories and dates, I’m stressed, how are fairy-tales not true? how does my writing sound to you? After this, what’s the move? all these emotions hit me in a mere instance, conflicted but not submissive, I’m still here as “me”, have I lost my sense of identity? a slave to the pen, to the red ink it spills, from my veins “honesty over everything” is what it instills, learning from life, somehow still confused, if I told you to find me in the writing, could you?