If the clouds went away,
far away from me,
they would continue
to rain on my parade.

Nobody should march to
the beat of someone else's drum;
I will always be a
disappointment to somebody.

They come they go-
the compliments and sacrifice.
How inconsistent
they always are.

How can I firmly
establish my identity,
when my identity
is what they disapprove of?

Wind brings cold sorrow
upon the harsh cheeks of peace.
Like sandpaper forced to strip
the wood from it's originality.

Wind splintered;
scarred by disease.
Freedom of the world permits-
experiences we forget to seek.

I have the power while
trapped behind these walls,
to bring the wind down-
to sandpaper these memories away after all...

Nature give me strength,
as I sink in your terrain,
in order for me to live my life
within a world where evil reigns.

I dream of the wind on a Fall day,
in the everglades.
I've never been but I pretend I've laid
on the peaceful green grasses that grow
before the sun went down so slow.

My dream diminishes that peaceful thought
and the moon fulfills the sadness of
the night that I spend alone,
because she's gone
for good you know.

In my voice,
a conviction stability,
a dedication,
a sacrifice unrequited,
an eternal reach for decency.

In my heart,
a pressure uniformed,
a blood flow,
a purity,
a mortal love storm.

In my eyes,
a mirror pristine,
a secret,
a truth,
a promise of my loyalty.

In my soul,
emotion,
a romantic amour,
a lover,
a flame,
my sensual paramour.

So many people
dying,
breaking promises,
bleeding
dealing stealing,
gunshots to my right.
Not a soul,
blissful
loving caring,
meditating or controlled.
Alone at this desk,
a hot reckless mess of sweat,
hoping
praying wishing,
for
freedom
peace and respect.