They key to happiness,
Poetry.
Letting the words flow from the pen,
Soaking into the paper,
Making it beautiful,
Crafting sentences,
And choosing words,
Isn't it funny how it can make you so happy?

Summer is ending,
But I still feel the warm breeze,
It reminds me of home,
The divine smell of fresh roses,
Even fresh mowed grass,
Reminds me of a better time,
One that can only be had in the summer,
But summer is over,
For another year.

Its building up,
I need a release,
Something to calm me,
and bring me peace.

Alone in this place,
No where to turn,
Stress is rising,
and I'm non of your concern.

Heavy hearts breaking,
Dull skies,
Dull minds,
Trying to survive,
But barely living.

Oh how the flow of ink can make one so happy,
When pen hits paper magic can occur,
As long as the flow of ink carries on,
I will be satisfied.

I want to splat my feelings out onto a page,
Yet they stay frustrated thoughts,
Its as if I have lost the words to say,
No words,
No love,
No one.

"Just eat"
Easier said than done.
Scales,
fear,
and weight.
Are what comes between me and food.

Time moves swiftly,
Its brutality waits for no one,
Time wont stop for a straggler,
He will leave you for dead,
Time wont stop,
I havent got time for time...