I hate that I love her so much

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

I don't know when it became
Such a game
To just communicate
With you
Some power play

But dang I'd choose
Cups and strings
And walkie talkies
Over this "thing"
Any day

America is the Land of the Free.
People can be who they want to truly be,
so I welcome all to inspect our society.

It’s perfect as long as one causes no fuss;
only hear what is mellifluous;
only see what is marvelous.

But if one really sees–
if one should look beyond the beautiful seam–
one can gaze upon the problems of our society.

Ask a teenager, some of the most opinionated beings alive,
and find out on what our society really thrives.
Ask a teen how they see the Land of the Free throughout their lives.

Teenagers are depressed.
Students are stressed.

Students study hard, work hard, and all for naught
for all the business’s doors have already been locked.

Society tells people to express themselves and their opinions;
as long as it follows these guidelines and remains in this general thought dominion.

People will hate
on what you wear or on your weight.

Children no longer learn about how to love,
only about how to avoid *** and drugs.

Education is viewed as a privilege, not available to all children born,
when, in a place as plentiful as this, it should really be the norm.

So, I ask, Fair Inspector, is America really Land of the Free
with still so much wrong with our society?

The crowd fades away
As chords in every melody
Rings in our ears,
And shivers downs in our body
It vibrates in every muscle
A musical fusion
Almost everything didn’t matter
It’s you, me and the beating rhythm
The graceful posture
The sway of every gesture
It’s a motion adventure.

Feeling the adrenaline pulsing through
Pervading the entity
Beating rhythm pounding, it electrifies the body
into graceful art, emancipating the sound of the music
Captivating the mind, liberating the young, reckless soul
covertly hidden inside an indifferent exterior

A freeing beauty
of movement to the rhythm
A therapy to the mind and body.
Dancing to the music,
feeling every tune
every beat
every breath of every movement,
with Explosions of Euphoria