Believe even when the sky seems it'll never turn blue.

I will not atone to a world
with swift heavy fists
demanding the bestowing
of my hues.

It’s been sixty days since I’ve put pen to paper—
my feelings to ideas—
who I am to what I dream—
I need to read in order to fly.
I need to listen in order to guide.

Alone I fish the Atlantic with my fears
I can’t cherish raw moments with my peers.

I’ve returned to prove I’m brave.
I don’t want to be normal.
I want to embrace my crooked thoughts—
my dry skin—I want to see colors.

I’m not just living in an idea.
I want to make reality my realm.
Somewhere I can feel love and cherish
the clouds—my spirit dust.

I don't want to smile.
There's no use of showing teeth or feeling God's air against them.
If you want pain--I have the keys to the shed.
If you want love--

I'm on that ship headed north.
I can't promise you I'll return from this journey.
But I want it--I am human.

And I must find the hues I don't own.

Love is blue hues peppering away

She fears planes
because she’s always been scared to fly.

I am he that needs redemption—
Does the Earth know exemption?
A boy and his pen I dream of books.
A boy and his pen I dream of quasar.

Now redemptions on your mind when you think about me.