Saturday's sky a dessert for the eye,
Creamy clouds dolloped liberally,
fluffy and plump
floating silently
through rich azure
sprinkled
with hovering vs
of birds soaring high.  
To have wings is to be blessed,
why can't I?
Questions of a child
still rumble in my aging bones.
Though I'm kind of glad
to still have
echos of innocents
and hidden hope
that one day I may.

The mirrors are now flush with a fog,
the air grows hot from the bodies
that move about the mat like acrobats,
swimming through the guards and grips
of their opponents’ limbs
as I sit back and admire
another training session
at the monster gym.

Sometimes I think, not too often
(but occasionally) and I wonder
where would I be if I had not been here-
for the last two and half years of my life?
What kind of person would I be
had I not met all these different personalities
who have wandered in and out those doors
both day and night?

   For some this place is an escape
               but for me it’s become a way of life.

You don't understand
the joy it would bring
to just hear you, from you
I miss you
and that makes me weak
but I cant save myself anymore