I came to realize the rumours,
Spread only by the daring few.
Modernly changed into playful humours,
Discarding the horror: it’s true.

In the darkest of allies,
And the depths of our ignorance.
Within our concrete seas,
We have destroyed the ambulance.

I did it only with harmless intent,
Not knowing what to anticipate.
A brother did me try to prevent,
With a stare that did me debate.
Only now I know what he meant,
So I hoped that it could dissipate.

Endless joy,
Careless thoughts.
A young boy,
Feeling that of astronauts.

I was taken into space itself,
In a room shut by vacuumed-air-lock.
All I could hear was myself,
As my laugh sounded the tick of a clock.

Time had surely been slurred,
As an hour did pass, but my whole life I’d replayed.
This indefinitely had my imagination stirred,
For every move I did make was somewhat delayed.

A consistent sound,
Pure.
Yet irritating,
For sure.
As if me,
It to lure:
That death
Be the cure.

It wouldn’t go away.
Any of it.
Would I see the light of another day?
Stuck in this pit?

There and then, a prayer was said,
Asking for healing.
With all the sense in my head,
And the pain I was feeling.

In that same day,
I made my decision.
For the rest of my life,
I’d forget the transition.

Writing isn't about how much
Anger you can accumulate.
It's about heart and such,
And at that, passiom agate.

Rage within one's soul,
Provides a lot of drive.
But reversing without control,
Is nothing at which to strive.

Sorrow seeping through the seams,
Seamlessly slithering into your dreams,
As you start to slip away from reality,
And realize its lob-sided lethality.

Misbelief can be misleading,
Leaving your heart utterly bleeding,
Creating holes that bore far,
And serum that cannot soothe the scar.

Fear makes one easily fickle,
And become rusty and rotten.
And just as one discards a pickle,
So too, you become forgotten.

So, be not what comes not naturally,
For you are created beautifully.
And in the state in which you are joyful,
Go forth, and flourish, and be fulfilled.

Multiple options from which to choose,
And yet so little time and so many queues.
Society's value is increasing tragically,
Waiting for no one in all of humanity.

So out of humanity, ideas are waiting,
Irrelevant of legality and timeless debating.
Into suspenseful secrecy,  
Of luscious gold greenery.

A rocker's transition,
A kite flier's toy.
For some a bad decision,
To remember to enjoy.

Chambers enclosing dark rooms of red,
Covered in green and filled with dread.
The only light-source, self-emitting gold,
From the yellowy cases of goods all sold.

Forestry cut down and replaced,
To supply fruit to the majority.
Yet as foul, it is showcased,
It is seen as a priority.

A life-long enterprise,
Of life-threatening reward.
One must never shut their eyes,
Without a hand on their sword.

Anonymous, we will remain,
Never in one time at any given place.
The world of humanity, our domain,
Unknown forever, without any trace.

I feel like I'm a sunflower,
My eyes always follow the sun.
It has some sort of power -
An attractive force, for one.

I feel I have sunflower seeds,
I'm always crushing them for oil.
Maybe I'm just crushing,
And re-embursing into the soil.

I feel my green is yellow,
And my yellow surely lime.
Maybe I absorb the sun's hello,
And reflect hello in time -
In time to stand up tall,
In waits of more lightfall.

I've many leaves, fond of the sun they are.
But not as much as I, for they are still.
I am mobile, like a motor car,
And they can't move, like a green hill.
Yet, hills get not in my way,
For I look above their dismay.

The sun makes me happy.
Just a light to my day.
Here's a sunflower chappie,
Chew it and look the sun's way.

My roots, the sun cannot see.
And that's what truly defines me.
If the sun were to know, it'd blow,
Or maybe more spectacularly glow.

I cannot remove my eyes from the sun.
It's attractive force on my eyes, a ton.
Funny thing is, I'm the sunflower,
And you're the sun.