Poems are little
Snippets
Of what goes on
In one’s mind

Poems are made of
Short
Lines
Preferably those
That rhyme

Poems can be
Shallow
About the little things
Happening on
The surface

Poems can be
Deep
About the fractured thoughts
Underneath a
Painted smile

Poems can be silly
Full of fun
And laughter

Poems can be serious
Filled to the brim
With melancholy

Poems can be happy
A world of sunshine
Rainbows
And all things nice

Poems can be sad
Raining with tears
Peppered with sighs
And others that are not that
Nice

Poems depend
On their creators
To give them
That special touch
That special identity
To who you are
To what you really
Think and feel

"Walking down the line
That divides me somewhere
In my mind"

Splits the sides
Right through
The middle of
The endless battles

And in your path
Lies
Broken shards
Of
Thoughts
Emotions
Dreams
Memories
And everything
Else

Worries
steps
ow

Selfishness
steps
o­w

Hate
steps
ow

Anger
steps
ow

Jealousy
steps­
ow

Each step
Bringing about
New pains
New problems
New ****
Rising from that line
You're walking down
Strewn with those
Shards

Ultimately leading you
To that bottomless
Crevasse
.
.
.
.
.
.

Everything
Fades

Everything
Goes

Everything
Breaks

Everything
­Blows

I take a look
Around
And find
Nothing standing
Zilch

Only till
My eyes catch
That little corner
That cozy little
Corner
With a rug –
A soft one, like the ones they used
In kindergarten
A blanket –
The downy ones
A pile of pillows –
Of all sizes
A charger socket –
To recharge my music player
A set of earphones –
Those noise cancelling ones
Complete with
A guitar
And a nice
Black
Piano
To hide
Everything
From sight

This safe
Little
Haven
Is the only thing
Left

Too bad
It’s
*Imaginary