I am a garb.
An outfit.

I am now in season.
And in trend.
I am well loved.
Well received.

But fads pass...
What used to be the rage
will eventually fade.

What used to be sought after
will inadvertently be shelved.
And forgotten.

So wear me now.
Fill me full.
As you grow,
my sleeves would shorten.
And seams would burst.

Wear me now.
For I am your garb.
And I still fit.

I don't know how to love
without wanting more.

I don't know how to swim
when there is no shore.

I don't know if there's an after
when the present is sculpted from before.

I won't know love
if love is nothing but lore.

Why is it that the day
I feel like writting poetry
Always seems to fall on a day
That responsibility has a hold on me
Poetry burst from my brain
When I long to be free
This is when the world
Throws demands upon me
As if poetry is locked within my mind
It does not want to break free
Unless I'm out of time
Stress is when it takes center stage
Rhyming of words becomes
The insatiable rage
I have to put down my pen
Close The notebook or turn the page
Cuz like I said
I gots lots of responsibility
To handle today
SO LONG