In the winter, my fuzzy blue gloves
do wonders for me. They protect
my hands from the freezing cold,
keeping them in a state of nice and warm.

But those same gloves are not always
so nice and comforting. Leave them on
through mid-August. My hands will boil,
and be reduced to puddles of sweat.

Besides, don’t I look so silly,
wearing those fuzzy blue gloves
paired with tank top and shorts,
in the sizzling Summer sun?

Walk all over me.
No,
Really, I don't mind.
That's why I'm here--
to keep you safe
from the ones that
go too fast.

Clutch. Shift. First Gear,
My thoughts leave the atmosphere.
Clutch. Shift. Third Gear,
I'm getting out of here.
Bright red stars, screeching brakes,
Driving behind me is not always safe.

in the beginning, it was just rhyme and scheme
nothing else meant something to me.
and nothing else could make me smile
well, at least it did for a little while

but then as a sophomore my tongue did change
as everything I thought was rearranged.
nothing else was just nothing while
something became more than something.

now more than something is all I want
with its layers and layers of different thought.
is this for anyone or really just one?
what are these many bells that float along?

more than something is something
thanks to  mr.cummings
now  i’m not stuck with just nothing
instead of more than something.