People like that I speak plain.
They don’t like when poets are vain.
Hope they love this little refrain.
Think I’ll do it, again and again.

Flowery language isn’t always for me,
I keep my verses wandering free.
Simple words do hold the key,
So a sapling becomes a tree.

Paul Butters

Angry knots in the joints of my hands
My fists clenching and unclenching
I am not comfortable in this skin
Everything is so loud, so harsh to me,
The creak of the table, the chewing of gum
The tap tap tap of drumming fingers
I can feel lightning in my veins
Crackling and snapping, it is violent
I want to block everything out
I want it to blur at the edges of myself
And disappear somewhere quiet
Somewhere my skin isn't a cage
And my mind isn't an enemy
I need the lull of the sea on a hot day
And the embrace of the waves
As I sink.