I was walking through the desolate woods.
I saw two paths.
One was quiet, with fewer footprints,
The other filled with souls tearing each other apart.

Everyone told me to go for the deadly path,
But I chose the silent way.
Even though it was difficult,
Love and truth still lit my stay.

Sometimes I write poetry
most times it writes me.

Showing me things 
I need to see.

Things I need to acknowledge
to be a better man.

Not to change the world, 
but to change what I can.

Most often times
it's a change in me,
A reflection of a man 
I don't want to see.

Sometimes I write poetry,
most times it writes me.

And the more that I write
the more I'll like what I see.

And maybe someday
if I write well enough,

The man in the mirror
will smile back at me.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡠⠀⡄⢠⠀⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣶⠟⢠⣾⡇⢸⣷⡄⠻⣶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀­⠀⠀⠀⠚⠛⠛⠃⠐⠛⠛⠃⠘⠛⠛⠂⠘⠛⠛⠓⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⢻⠏⢠⣿⣷⡄⠹⣿⠋⣠⣶⣿⣿⣶⣄⠙⣿⠏⢠⣾⣿⡄⠹⡟⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠛­⣛⠋⠀⠋⠀⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠀⠙⠀⠙⣛⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
╔═══════════════════════╗
⣰⡟⠀⠈⢻⣆⠀⣴⠟⠉⠀⠀⠉⠻⣦­⠀⣰⡟⠁⠀⢻⣆
⣿⣦⣤⠤⣴⣿⣴⣿⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣿⣦⣿⣦⠤⣤⣴⣿
╚═══════════════════════╝

I don't know what I was looking for,
in the honey draped lights flashing
in my eyes
And the sound of music
that keeps on playing and playing

And the wind that laps over my face
as the world turns,
Like horses running on axis,
weaving through the lines of shadow
and fireworks
And in their trail, I found
stardust that shimmers and shimmers

I found it confusing sometimes
In the endless mirrors and lights
that spirals in my mind
Like vines coiled around poles
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀  ⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀     ⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⢠⣾⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⢠⣾⣦⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣉⣀⣴⣿⠋⠙⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣉⣀­⣴⣿⠋⠙⠃⠀
⠀⢰⡟⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡟⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠘⠃⢸⡿⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠹⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠃⢸⡿⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠹⡇­⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠘⠃⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠑⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠃⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠙⠀⠀⠀

And the looming sweetness that lingers,
like pink foam swirling in my mouth

I smiled towards the dying sunset,
thinking it would last forever
I try not to close my eyes
and not be blinded
by the world slowly slipping
away

Before the music dies
Before the yellow stars burn out
You might not hear my voice
or even remember my name
But I just want you to know that

I was here

════⊹⊱✦⊰⊹════════⊹⊱✦⊰⊹════
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⡤⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀­⠀⢰⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⡆⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀

The sun’s brightness urged me to move on,
But the darkness of clouds whispered, "Stay."
Even when the brightness was stronger,
I was standing alone in the "gray."