Dear future,
I am not afraid of you,
Life is searching for the rainbow at the end of every storm,
And from every setback, and every letdown thrown my way,
I will rise up like a Phoenix from the ashes of my own ruin and demise,
And, my dear future,
I will make mistakes,
But from these mistakes I will only grow,
To know that I am okay,
Because If life was with out mistakes we'd all just be wandering travelers on a straight and joyless road to nowhere,
And dear future, this may be hard to believe, but darkness does not exist,
It is merely the absence of light,
and sorrow just the absence of a happiness that always shines through,
And when all the pain and bad in the world is washed away,
all that will be left is love and beauty,
Because between every cloud there is a silver lining
And after sadness and grief there is only hope.
Hope in every mother and father,
Hope in every daughter and son,
Because my dear future,
We are not afraid.
And together, the rainbow we are trying to find isn't so far after all

Frustration is a navy blue wave
Turning and churning, crashing and thrashing,
Dark and powerful and angry and crude,
Wanting so badly to break out of its set path,
But knowing the only end designed for it,
By the powerful wind that blew it into existence,
Is to crash into the shore with an ending so insignificant,
That it is forgotten from time, from life, from the world,
And from the vast unforgiving ocean that so carelessly consumes it

A single drop falls,
Down a window glass pane,
Falling,
a river,
left in its wake,
Drip.
It's kin soon follow,
Falling from the sky
Impatient fingers drumming on the glass
Tap tap tap tap tap one after the other
Still more and more and now the glass is drenched with a horde,
The raindrops swarm and cloud all sight, running and a bumping and squirming all about
Then thunder!!!!!
It roars like a lion through the night
It tears through the air, ripping and shredding
And then when peace seemed a long vanished dream never to be seen
Somehow it's found,
Amid the chaos,
And the storm,
dries up,
Pitter.

      Patter.
    

               Drip.

A single drop falls,
From the heavens,
Piercing through,
The black sky,
Till it lands.
Softly grazing the windowpane,
A wandering rabbit,
Leaving its trail across the glass,

Drip.

It's kin soon follow,
Falling from the sky,
Impatient fingers drumming on the glass,
Drip drop pitter patter,
Tap tap tap tap tap,
falling down and down and down,
Still more and more and more,
now the glass is drenched with little beads,
All leaping and bounding and prancing they fall,
They are newborn fauns splashing and playing in the dark,
And moremoremoremoremore over and over again,
Tumbling down the glass in an onslaught they surge,
Harder and harder and faster and faster now a horde of running gazelles,
Trying to escape their hunter, pummeling and pounding against the glass,
Blearing wide eyes, darting every which way, over and over,
crashing, thrashing, bumping and squirming and runningrunningrunning
And Then thunder!!!!!
A roaring lion through the night,
It's raw power unleashed from the captivity it has been held,
Angry and violent It tears through the air, ripping and shredding,
And when peace seemed a long vanished dream from the minds eye,
Somehow it's found,
Amid the chaos,
And the storm,
dries up,
Pitter.

      Patter.
    

               Drop.

The air is fresh and crisp, piercing through the sky,
My hands become sticky from the sap on the frosty mint pines,
The tree tops reach for the sky, just barely grazing it,
a cardinal, vibrant red against the landscape that used to be white, flies overhead,
Soon giving way to a field of smiling flowers,
They wave at me as they sway with the wind,
poppies speckled with paint splashed on them by the breeze,
And forget me nots, little bundles of joy lighter and brighter than the sky itself
A pond once covered in an layer of thin ice, sparkles with the morning sun,
On its side, Cat tails shimmer under an endless blue sky,
The only sound I Hear is the soft crackle of my feet on the scraggly grass,
Tickling my toes and telling me the oncoming spring has arrived

Warmth floods in my hands
The golden sun controls them
To write natures words

He turns his feet in endless dance
Thumping and pounding as if in a trance
He knows no ending nor beginning as well
He is more powerful than Heaven or Hell
He stops for no man, marching on through the night
He is longer than the world, yet he has no height
His steps are confident, steady and clean
No mistakes he will make, For he is a machine
Every movement he makes, cities crumble and fall
With the life that he leads, he will surely **** all
But as he goes on, such joy does he bring
Life changes around him, summer fall winter spring
Never does he falter, on rhythm he thrives
No judgement he brings, yet he measures our lives
Always he's calm, there's no need for luck
his hands reach for the sky and twelve has been struck
As his dance carries on no pain nor sorrow
Can stop old man time from bringing tomorrow

I am ugly
Words that claw their way out between frozen lips
They quiver and quake as they question their existence
Trembling with the fear of being seen, noticed

Snarling accusations that bounce off mirrors
smooth and clear, polished by the insecurities of those around it
Walls Painted dull and yellowed by mildew
Fading away against the beautiful crystal clear images the mirrors contain

Reflections of gorgeous ever scowling faces
Mere copies of the long forgotten originals
Reflected again and again in those too afraid to show their true self
Desperately striving for others to see only their surface beauty

But True beauty is not for all to see
Were only as beautiful as we choose to be