That carrot, what could be said a little girl gave her,
                    Well we wondered why an anatomically
Correct Miss Snow lady had such an amicable smile.

Her nose always seemed to descend to below,
                         She had a friend but his carrot was as
Limp as could be, it wasn’t his fault it’s the cold you see…

But never fear, where there is ingenuity there is away…
                 In their morning Miss Snow seemed to ice up below,
But she seemed to have a rather defrosted glow…

For when it was time for this artificial carrot to wind down,
              She evaporated in pleasure but Mr Snowman was still there
***** but no place to go. Poor Mr Snowman,
                                                          we'll blame it on the cold…

It never saw itself as much,
             a rough coat...
  but underneath that where
             its true potential lay.

But when It looked deeper
          all it saw was conflicting layers.
    Then the unthinkable, others saw
his uses but he just cut into himself.


Tears feel as the feeling of unworthiness
             was cut away as layers fell..
but this was like every other
                     onion depressed at its worth.

but everything is special in another's eyes,
     Were all like a onion, layers of dignity.
But even though we don't see it,
      We all have a worth, were layers of an onion..

My morals do not abstain
             from false figurines
of ill-gotten morals.
Mine are birthed from my humanity,  
         and the throws of my
mothers kindness.
She who showed me that my humanity
is what I should
                   follow as a path of
kindness & respect and fortitude...
I follow no false reflection that are
        never shown on the reflections
of my thinking.
            We are each a vessel of conscious
memory and we need to follow our own
               path that swings between
the morals of what are perceived as
                                                       good
                                                            ­&
                                                           bad...
But it the nature of our humanity to
thread our lives on our deeds or misdeeds..
We are the vehicle of our own ending..
Do we swim or sink in our decisions...

On tethered dreams I hang upon,
                never really suffocating
on the mirage of my hallucinations
that I skim past.

My feet barely glancing as
      I stem for growth
   to reach this ill choice of wanting.
but  I wilt before slipping in to
         a suspended unconsciousness.

I see the colours of hope above me,
       but these illicit shimmers
keep me hanging from a goal
that could falter me.
       Tethered now within my own disappointment.

Yet I choose this path of least resistance,
    suspended between the ending of my
               continued existence.
Or to just keep looking up
        not seeing that my choices
will someday float beyond my reach.