Is the only thing
That is easy in life.

Sleep
Cradles you like a baby
And whispers sweet dreams in your ear
Making you forget
The cruelties of the world.

Sometimes I wish
I could stay asleep
All of the time.

Who doesn’t?

Summer
The height of the year
Tank tops
And short-shorts the only thing worn.
Melting heat
A breeze!
Pure bliss.

Fall
The heat cools
And sweaters and jeans
Emerge from the closet.
Sweet coolness fills the air.
It’s a bit chilly today.

Winter
The coolness grows colder
You see your breath
Billowing out of your mouth.
Brrrrrr!
You put on a few more layers.

Spring
Brings flowers
And beauty
And bees
And allergies.
I guess they balance each other out.

Everyone is pretty rare
In their own special way.

You will find NO ONE
exactly like me
And I will find NO ONE
like you either.

Our personalities
cannot be copied
and pasted.
God didn’t make it that way.

Why do some people still try
To be like another?

We all have our faults
No one is perfect
But that does not mean
We must shape ourselves to be like others.

We must shape ourselves to be BETTER
not perfect
not someone else
Just BETTER.

A tree still grows
Without being another tree.
We can be better
Without being someone else.

Because it’s ok
To be a better person
In your own way.

It’s ok to be rare.

All of my friends are crazy
Maybe, just maybe
It’s because I’m super
Crazy too

Rhymes are liquid,
That I know.
They are as liquid
As melted snow.

Rhymes are liquid
They can flow
And take the shape
Of what you shape it so
Rhymes are most definitely liquid.

Rhymes can leak
Out of your mouth.
Just like water
Both liquid, no doubt.

Just like room temp. mercury
Is rhyme’s liquidity.

Rhymes not contained
Can be a mess.
Just like how
Spilled milk
Is not the best.

This poem here
Is evidence
That rhymes being liquid
Makes so much sense.

Sadness is like water.
You sink beneath it
And it tells you to stay.

When you do,
it shrinks you
And wrinkles you
Until you’re nothing more
Than a clump of pruny skin
In a bathtub of sad.

To be honest
I’m usually happy,
I’m the happy me everyone needs.

But when I break
I crack
I cry ‘cause I’m human,
I hold the sad like a blanket.

But the blanket is ice cold
Yet it still takes a while
To throw it off my shoulders.

Everything is fun and games
Until someone gets hurt.

It’s such a shame
That some people
Get their fun and games
From people getting hurt.

Pain
Is not
A game.

My eyes
Flick open
I look through the window
By my bed.

The sun
So many colors
Blinding
Yet so beautiful.

The pinks
And the oranges
The yellows
And the reds.

The shades
Of those colors
Give me hope
Motivate me
To be my own beginning
Like those colors
Beginning  a day.

Between the words
Of a book
Is where the magic happens.

Between the words
The characters’ lives
Go way out of
The storyline.

Between the letters
A character
Is not slaying
The dragons
Or slumbering
For a century.

In the margins
The characters think
Outside of the plot,
And while the words
Of a book
Are magical,
between the words
Is the best part.

Afternoon
After school
After lunch.

We settle down
And let the light
Filtering in
Calm us.

The adrenaline fades
And the tiredness catches up with you.

Yawn,
You say.

Yawn,
She says.

Yawn,
He says.

Yawns are so contagious.