The inspiration was empty air
And the window was full of false impressions
Cold sun and spring trees left bare

Even the seasons gave up on changing
It was apathy disguised as depression
The reasons not to get out of bed ranging

From paranoia to frustration
Of the lack of love and sincerity
A growing grave of your own creation

You could be happy if you really tried
And settled for idea of rarity
Convince yourself it’s wired

Into human nature but simply ignored

The rain was steady
Against the black
Pavement

Cars run through puddles
Disturbing the sound
Of walking feet
Along the road

The sky was gray
But the trees
Were simply
Alive

Her bedroom will be pink
A paint I dislike,  It will be her pride
A bear sits in the corner
Brown eyes set on the floor
Its thoughts hang, she can hear
She says it runs when she’s away

She asks me to be abstract
Her wings reaching up
My own monarch yearning
To color where she flies
“You never were a caterpillar,”
A soft laugh in the sunlight
I hope she remembers