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I’ve been walking this long hallway
for over a year
Reading the gilded framed
poems lining the walls,
verse after verse of
beautifully written words

I have made some good
friends along the way
Met some wonderful poets
who I have learned from
as well as learned to respect
and admire (watching far too many leave)
these meetings I will cherish

I have also crossed paths with a few
who didn’t care for me all that much,
hated my dreadful reviews, (blocked me for that)
misundertood my attempts at humor
or didn't appreciate the love poetry
I tried to slip in amongst the fighting,
but that’s okay, it takes all kinds

I've counted the masks worn,
there are more than two reasons
aren't there?
Some smiling, some not,
all there for their own reasons,
which it is not for me to judge
or anyone else, though that doesn't
seem to stop it from happening

Still little by little I have
headed towards a faint light
The soft glow at the far end
of this prose tiled floor
Each day the light became
a bit stronger, brighter
That tiny glowing square
in the distance
bigger and bigger

My shadow leading or following,
longer or shorter
depending on if I walk facing
forwards or backwards,
hop scotching over the hate,
sneaking past the accusations,
hiding from trolls (he found me anyway)
and the finger pointed whining,
hoping to pass go,
(you can keep the two hundred)


All the while sadly realizing
I am slowly becoming
smaller and smaller,
barely visible to others here
Disappearing a little more
with each passing day
Till now I am nothing more
than a forgotten minute speck
at the furthest end
of this meandering corridor

An insignificant silhouette
of a poet who once was,
now slowly fading
out through the opening
to stand in the bright sunlight
And as I refocus my eyes
to my new surroundings
I turn to wave goodbye
to what I so enjoyed
only to see a sign that reads…

*“Thanks for visiting Hellopoetry, whoever the hell you were”

If we as humans could indeed fly
If we could take to the heavens and kiss the sky
If we could truly reach up with wings to guide us
It would feel much the same as falling in love.

These wings of mine are tipped with joy
The feathers woven from thoughts sweet and coy
The bones are hollow and made of steel
And the power of flight received in what I feel.

If we as humans could indeed soar
If we could shoot for the sky and past it for more
If we could fly our way straight to the sun
I reckon it'd feel much like finding the one.

I'll sing my own funeral song
And attend my wake alone
I'll write and read my eulogy
And drive my hearse home.

I'll sing my own funeral song
Send my own soul to rest
I'll pray over my casket
And mourn my life and death.

I'll sing my own funeral song
Place a single flower on my grave
I'll out myself into the ground
And cover my stilled face.

When you see her cry
     you get a rag,
a gentle delicate cloth.
                                        Lovingly grasp her hand
                                               and dab its tip;
                                       dry each tear as they come.
                                                           ­                               And ask each drop
                                                            ­                                   why it'd leave
                                                           ­                               such beautiful eyes.

  If she wishes
to be in the sky,
  tell her to go.
                              Take the sun ransom,
                              and replace its shining
                                    with her own.
                                                            ­          So you can see her every morning
                                                         ­                          and wish for her
                                                                ­                  return each night.

When you see her scars
  both visible and non-
    touch each gently.
                                             And remind her
                                       that each and every hurt
                                            she has survived,
                                                       ­                                 has only made her
                                                                ­                   that much more unique;
                                                         ­                              that much stronger.

  Show her that she
  is a special person
and is worthy of love.
                                     That she deserves the love
                                            she fears to give...
                                            show her so that
                                                            ­                     one day after you're gone
                                                            ­                      she can find the strength
                                                                ­                    to go on without you.

    Tell her that while
she might not be a goddess
far above worldly desires,
                                          that she is amazing,
                                         for just being herself
                                    for being that beautiful girl
                                                            ­                   who thinks herself damaged
                                                         ­                         when in truth she's just
                                                            ­                    a different kind of beautiful.

   And finally, love her.
  Like a boy loves a girl
Till she finally remembers
                                            that that's what she is:
                                          not a scar, not a goddess,
                                             not a star. But a girl.
                                                           ­                         That deserves to be loved.