why do things have to be
distorted
clarity is matching fragments
of broken glass
a rarity

I will be caught
  in the end
  and chastised
  if I write
  to be recognised
  for in that guise
  a victim I will fall
  to silly pride

a  simple stringer
of words and thoughts
through the tumble
of life
a scribbler
a dabbler
a story-teller
on the insignificant side

let the real bards sing
I'll listen in deference
in humility abide

for a small voice
am I
that truth
I shouldn't deny

we looked straight at the truth
but only believed it when everyone told us to

youre the sun to my moon.
you make me shine bright and gravitate around the ones i love.
you give me equilibrium.
youre the sun, and im merely just the moon.