Observe the darkness;
Yet the star and moon shed light;
Yet my head has no
Lit path in itself or a
Way to waltz throughout its night.

You have a mother;
She doesn’t know
That I’ve given you a paper
That you have yet to throw.
In other words,
Your mom’s a ***.

If there is purpose to life
Then it is death,
As all men die,
And some men mourn.

I was the female
Whose eyes and soul
Were like a mystery
Wrapped inside a fairytale.

I’m being burned:
Burned by the water.
The water’s hot,
But I am hotter.

I miss––for still I miss.
My lips are stone, and cannot kiss.
My year was long;
What is this "bliss"?
What is love?
I can no longer reminisce.

I miss––for still I miss.
Heart is empty; no roar, no hiss.
A year, and you're still gone,
And poems are written into dawn.
Thoughts are dark like an abyss.