She is a poem of his heart
He never disclosed
In front of anyone.

I did not require fixing
Asking only that you do no damage
Here in the rot and rust
I plant my own gardens
And decorate my own soul
Making it my own
Making it my home

now i lay me down to sleep
i pray the lord, my thoughts to keep
my anxious mind
runs through the night
i don’t know if i
can stay this time

I hate your phrases of,
'Life is a marathon' and
'Shoot for the stars'.
You tell me to imagine that life is
This, fantasy.
So what 'inspiration' am I left with when
the last page of the story book
Has been turned.
When I'm told that the stars
are actually out of reach,
When I tell you that I’m out of breath.

How can I begin to make my way in this world,
When you keep trying to change it?

Take a closer look like a fractal
He makes a design with the shatter when I’m fragile
Trying to telll them I’m not an angel
Disregard your approach while I’m working different angles
The world stabs me the pain stays but I’ll see how the reign goes
No shady pose
It’s just drops-how the rainy goes
Crazy flow-that’s not original
I opt for aboriginal
They say great I say minimal
Sorry for dismal
He says it is it goes