A lot of the kids I went to school
were so **** sure of themselves
they would prattle on about
how macro economics was their passion
or how a major in accounting
is their dream
and there's nothing wrong with that
but would your would be passion
be your passion if you were homeless?
if you were terminal
I'm talking like
one year left on the clock
is your passion what you'd still be pursuing?
so you have a passion?
then go out and get it

Isn't it very strange
That the majority of humans on this planet
Are right handed?
I mean seriously
Out of seven billion people
Over three and a half billion
Are right handed
And I wonder
What part of our genetic coding
Dictated that
The norm
Was for people to rely
On their right hand

She was the moon.
Fair, serene, and powerful.
He was the sun.
Luminous, warm, and strong.
Unknowingly chasing each other around the globe,
Growing weary,
Becoming hopeless,
Until an eclipse.
And the whole world stopped to watch,
as the pair met in the ebony sky.

The quiet color gray
Is bashful and shy
Doesn't have much to say
And likes to be passed by

Lives to dance
Between colors and hues
But when given the chance
Gray can impress you.

you're not supposed to rip your pictures
he said
but someone else once told me
a pictures worth a thousand words
so what are you supposed to do
when you want those words
dead

The rain patters onto my empty chest-
creeping into the enchanting chamber,
waiting to seize the incorruptible mess,
that engulfs the conviction of my progress.

The slaying of happiness,
the revitalisation of weaknesses,
corrupts the mind,
inducing a sense of bleaknesses.
Defending its prey,
from any possible delay,
in disrupting the body and mind,
of any drops behind.

My body slithers,
into nonexistent jitters,
attacking my mind,
from all of life’s glitters.