Left in the dark
walking, crawling, crying
Out of breathe
trembling, suffocating, dying

A faint sound
beating, stimulating, overwhelming
A spark of light
running, living, smiling

A rose that grew through concrete..

Poems are endured and love by the sad only
Songs are enjoyed by the ecstatic one's
To the broken, ignored and left lonely
The pure, loved and who smile like the sun

Everyone search one truly majestic
Only to be fooled, betrayed, a tragic
Soft touch and sweet kiss, love is chaotic
Climb, run, jump, save the world and be epic

Strange how the mind works, full of mysteries
And we become outsiders to ourselves
But we find ourselves making great stories
We alone suffer this fate to ourselves

Breathing, evolving to beautiful beings
Poems are written and the blissful one's sings

don't you dare shed those tears
that you've been holding onto
for so long, in all these years

don't you dare mutter in grief
the single moment you sagged
in overwhelming simple relief

don't you dare cry out in pain
or tear your clothes, nor rip your
hair beneath a perfect summers rain

don't you dare try for sympathy
holding another's hand, randomly
for she is not random but your
epiphany

don't you dare weep for me

if a single tear drop falls
and burns a path so endless
let it be your downfall
you wept at nothingness

don't you dare weep for me

I'm may be the willow tree in winter
the barrenness that left you blind
I'm may be the heat of summer
that sweltered you so unkind

yet you dare to weep for me

when the seasons decide to change
it's not your tears that bring relief
it's the history you try to rearrange

Your tears are crocodilian
steeped in lies and treachery
sitting like empty salt lakes

don't you  DARE  *weep for me

I walk
on a park so serene that birds gather on the tree tops to sing
a song that so nostalgic in a way you lighten up
and smile to embrace the setting sun an overwhelming feeling nonetheless
and you cannot ignore the view of the diving sun splattering depths of maroon
to the innocent clouds co-waltzing by with the grey blue sky so obvious
which only shows a beauty the nature can offer to the mortal eyes to see

the scenery is alluring that I would rather enjoy to sit under a tree
than to relax my body on a bench that are lined in an amusing way
facing the performance  of the slow warm afternoon



I write
under a tree to feel the fullness of this afternoon scribbling poems
because in this way I feel amazingly close to  nature that I appreciate every bit of it,
watching the butterflies playing a game of hide and seek while the one hiding
are the little pretty flowers rooted near the trees and the other rooted under the bench
and how I notice the trees are laughing cause the butterflies can’t seem to find the shy flowers
because in this spot I can see clearly what’s happening around me every bit of it
kids running around full of innocence and happiness not minding the butterflies
a lovers embracing each other like they are the only sweet thing around
and gaze at each other’s eye that seems likely make the time lingers

and look at the bench again that is not so far away from me
an uneasy feeling, a feeling of familiarity, a feeling of connection
just like me sitting alone under a tree a girl alone on her bench



I look
at you partly because you’re alone like me enjoying the dawdling afternoon,
partly because you have the beauty my very heart so desire,
partly because you make my heart skipped a beat this past few days,
partly because my love for you is growing every day I see you here and
it is not that hard to focused my all attention to you ignoring everything around me
even the love the couple emits with their embrace but you seem to be in trance
with the love the couple radiates and closely in your eyes melancholy tears fell
but still your even perfect when you cry and even angels weep to see you cry
maybe you miss the love you once have, maybe you feel so alone and so absorbed
that you feel there is no hope for the right one for you but only if you would look at me
here by the tree and I’ll give you a hope, I’ll offer you a smile so warm

but I can’t tell I’m the one only you can, but I’m sure I could kiss your tears goodbye
and you’re the only one I see myself dancing and holding each other’s hand
to stand near the tree when the sun sunk and this is all I’m hoping tell you about it.

When my love swears that she is made of truth
I do believe her, though I know she lies,
That she might think me some untutored youth,
Unlearnèd in the world’s false subtleties.
Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,
Although she knows my days are past the best,
Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue;
On both sides thus is simple truth suppressed.
But wherefore says she not she is unjust?
And wherefore say not I that I am old?
O, love’s best habit is in seeming trust,
And age in love, loves not to have years told.
    Therefore I lie with her, and she with me,
    And in our faults by lies we flattered be.