It's 4:01 in the morning, and i'm counting the minutes.
Reminiscing the day you kissed me like I'm yours.
And I'm here,
Laying on my bed.
Wondering if i'm in your dreams.
Hoping you'll save me to this
Nostalgic feeling.
Hoping you'll love me someday,
And repeat that kiss one day.

I'm tired of writing poetry for all the desolate disgraces I see in this world. Homeless hit a peak of 2.5 million children country wide in this land of opportunity. How are you supposed to survive with no role models or daily inspiration? The lessons you cherish are when your next meal arrives, not waiting on your pension. Suspended through the thicket of all this strife, and they are the ones who are grateful day and night. The smallest hospitality does not pass through their ears while comfortable in the heat you're deciding which brand of beer to choose. Intoxicate yourself like your problems will just vanish while a little girl no more than four begs strangers for a sandwich. Then blame the victims for stealing your bits of gold, when all they wanted was a blanket to keep out of the cold.

If you're happy and you know it
Slit your wrists
Watch your blood drip down
To your fists

If you're happy and you know it
Stay away from THE zombie poet
If you're happy and you know it
Look out for Chris

Everyone knows that convalescence turns to evanescence when heated bubbles rise with effervescence. It turns from shame with ease to blame and wraps back around conflicting and constricting your vein. About to burst and your worst thoughts inside will ride by the side taking every abide on their path to divide. This little lesson on entropy is no radical notion. But rather a fanatical description of raw emotion. Take a prescription and close the gate when you don't want to feel. Or be prepared for a lesson to kneel before genuine powers innate You can only reveal. The most important connections we make in this life will be tested over and again with an abundance of strife. Perfection is impossible, we can only try to flow. Our reflection is the garden that we will try to grow. It can only begin at a moment by planting a single seed. Reach out to someone feeling alone because truly we are all in need. Or try again with heart in hand and if you fear for wasted time...

I love you.
I forgive you.

These few words don't need to rhyme.

Little soldiers and heroes of this country
who proved to be braver than the rest.
They have set an example for the world to see.
They were the children dressed in green.

They fought the guns with their pens
and wrote their names on the land with their blood.
Those eyes are now closed that held a million dreams.
They were the children dressed in green.

Even the seven skies are scarred that witnessed
the innocent souls flying to the heaven.
They were smiling for they were finally free.
They were the children dressed in green