Show me a field that is filled with golden flowers
hours upon hours the smell of the grass elevates the scents
that seems to send passerbys into an overdrive of envy.
Lend me your hand so that my coarse skin is softened by yours,
the door to my heart is forever open awaiting your entrance
and the defences are fending off other fiends so don't worry about guard
because as hard as it is to trust, I've let my guards down a long time ago.
Show me that you can be the green to my gold
let us grow old but never grow up as we play like kids
let the bliss fill both our hearts as we unite together against the world.
Girl, will you find it in yourself to love me? ...as much as I love you?

Writers are forged from the fires of struggle
made to never crumble under pressure
like treasures embedded with diamonds.
Writers are fighters facing thunder and lightning,
writing the spark, the shock, the rumble
and the calm that comes after.
Writers are like iron forged under fire
burning with desire to be as strong as possible,
as sharp and logical as any thunderstorm.

Writers are roses in a valley of dandelions
aligned with lines as thorns and rhymes as petal,
which settles on paper.

the one who keeps me company,
when no one comes to my side

you said you would protect me but
instead you were the one who broke me