The places I go
When the people drink hot cocoa
Secret places
Yet are so big
How can one not look and think
That such a place has the space
To be filled with many people
But It's just you
Yet it doesn't seem a waste
Wanting to wonder
Upon these sights
Makes me forget
All those pointless fights
So when the stars are bright
Just know that I'll be ready
My heart no longer will be heavy
For the silence is relief
Fills my soul
Makes me say
Good grief.

Tomorrow is a word I use
The enthusiasm is there
There is no hope to lose
So sit by my side
During social gatherings at wide
Yet no words will be said
Just these words that you have read.

We met at a beautiful park bench;
“Hello.” I said,
“It's really good to see you!”
“Hey.” she said.

“How are you?
How has your day been?
Did you have a good weekend?”
I asked.
“Yeah, I did." she answered.

“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Yes, I'm fine.” she replied.
“Good.” I said.
There was silence for a moment.

“How are you?” She asked.
“I feel great.” I said.
“Good.” she said.

We went to buy a drink;
“What do you want?” I asked her.
She said “Just water.”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Yeah, I don't mind”

Ultimately, I was glad.
Meeting this girl
Brought…
Some reassurance
To last year’s me.

Some things words just can't describe.
When does emotion get to the point where...
It is beyond us?

Nowadays, is this a world for poetry?
Anyway, I suppose there couldn’t be.
And this may seem like a promotion
But I assure you people
It feels more like slow motion.

If you were to write poetry,
Say now.
What would you write about,
And more importantly, how?
This audience of children
Surely cannot understand
They couldn’t possibly comprehend.

Well the reason I write
Is because my voice cannot sing
Nor rap or any other popular thing,
But back then it was great
To write a verse, a perfect stanza
For the Greek meaning of ‘poetry’
Is to merely create.
So I do ask this generation
My most important question;
Why wait?

Melancholy.

   A pink rose.

Rain.

  Distant piano.

Loneliness.

  Cassette tapes.

  City nights.

   A cheap cigarette.

   Three white stripes.

    Couple of camera flashes.

    Wearing a face mask.

    A spontaneously special moment.

O, the struggles of the young 'adult'
Trying to fit in,
Yet somehow the 'social' cult
Takes away the souls that are pure
And curses them
Till they no longer endure.

Lust within the chest,
The heart is replaced.
Sickening to be self aware,
But worse to act the trend.

Oh! What a sad reality of age
To see ourselves want it all
Our deepest desires;
Putrid infections of evil.

Acknowledgment serves well.
Fear does not, nor does hate.
For all that is left human of you;
Do not give in and die a waste!

Free yourselves and become stronger,
Gain what you need and restore,
Aid those who mock this warning.

Slowly, I slipped it in.
The letter fell softly to the bottom of the letter box;
This is my only chance
To break these cursed locks.
So that maybe one day I can get her glance.