It can be a muddle
a muddy puddle
the eye of the poet.

Someday's I’m tired of smiling
Someday's I’m angry at the world and everyone
Someday’s I hate myself
Someday’s I want to die
Someday’s I’m scared of death
Someday's I think about the past
Someday’s I think about the future
Someday’s I’m thinking about to much
Someday’s I’m sad
Someday’s I want to be crying
Someday’s I want to be yelling
Someday’s I’m happy
Someday’s I question myself
Someday’s I’m my own worst nightmare
Someday’s I judge others
Someday’s I get angry with myself for saying mean things to others or judging them
Someday’s I’m broken
Someday’s My heart stops for a second
Someday’s I’m day dreaming, to get away from everything
Someday’s I want to be dancing around like a crazy person
Someday’s I think about what other think about me
Someday’s I’m sick and tired
Someday’s I want to join in the group
Someday’s I don’t think I’m wanted
Someday’s I think everyone hates me
Someday’s I don’t think my opinion doesn’t matter
Someday’s I realize my hands shake a lot
Someday’s I worry about almost everything
Someday’s I’m scared of everything and everyone
Someday's I write poems and quotes to help me out, with all the things I think about, telling myself “This is how I’m going to tell everyone my feelings” because I have a hard time telling them face to face without crying, and running away from them, and the next day saying it was nothing

Yes,
the pendulum swings up
But always returns
to the lowest point-
the bitter path
and we must carry on,

one foot in front of the other,
plodding forward,
unseeing
and in agony,
stepping in the shattered shards
of our broken soul.

Longing for hope and joy to shine
again
but each burst of light
Is shorter,
And the darker days longer.

And knowing that
Poisons the light.

Life is too bitter, cold and full
of poisonous thorns
to survive
without help,
without something
to light the dark paths.

Without spells
to ward off the black abyss,
Spells
  to keep
the dragons of despair
   away.

But Magic
Is something
We must choose
to
Make
To create,

something
we must
struggle
and fight
everyday
to ignite.

And when
we do
manage
to light
the sparks,
we need other fires
to keep
ours bright.

We need
to keep
other magicians
close by,
to protect us
and to lend us their spells
when ours are lost
And hidden.

The first time it happened
you were a typhoon.
You crashed against my shores with no warning
and no prediction.
The levy was broken.
I was thrown into your gusts,
your rains
and I felt the full force
of your destruction.
I waited for your storm to pass
but a grey fog
blocked my sun for months.
and when the skies cleared up again
I walked down the streets I thought I knew
and stared at crumbled foundations
your brokenness,
your pernicious wake.

The second time it happened,
you were a thunderstorm.
Thunder boomed
lightening struck
and I was drenched by the rain.
My new shoes were soaked
and my hair was ruined.
I reached shelter
and watched your storm rage outside.
I sat under a roof
and I stayed warm in another's arms.
Your storm passed quickly
and their were no flash floods.
The rain bloomed the flowers
and the grass looked a little greener.

The third time it happened
you were a raindrop.
You struck my arm on a bright summer day
and evaporated into the heat
before I even had the chance
to see the spot where you touched me.
I wasn't even sure
if I had felt something
or if it was in my head.
The sun beat down on the Earth
and the light radiated through the world.
No storms were coming,
and no destruction followed.
You were a solitary
imaginary
drop.
Which left my mind before it nestled into place.