There are no more heroes
Unless you're what the media wants
No more Sylvia's or Emily's
Never another Edgar, Whitman, or Frost!

I am but a drop in an ocean
My heart will stay stuck in my mouth
Fame will only come upon my end!
The plight of a natural born poet

All we know is write, write, write!
Words that wont reach until our last breath
Must we exist in this silence while forced to be alive?
We'll never know who was saved from our death!

How terribly embarrassing!
Those who sit in a fluorescent white room
Being taught what we were born to know
To love, and write, and lose!

Once I was a ghost
Floating between the realms
There was never such a thing
As light or dark or oblivion

I drifted through the gray desert
Without sun or wind or mountain sides
Desolate land stretched eternity
I stayed content as a cold thin line

Endless wandering ended my search
Though I knew not what for
A glimmer caught my periphery
Gravitating me towards the glow

My essence was then quickly surrounded
By beams of warm yellow light
I never knew there could be such a sensation
Nor any awareness of this bewitching sight

I had uncovered an unknown phenomenon
Of light and dark and density
Delivered into a world of immeasurable color
Mountains that gleam with sun and trees

This body I found brought me elegant gifts
Such as sight and sound and infinite love
I've become a stranger to the desolate gray
My ghost now possessed by life and home

We locked eyes
From across the room
Your pupils dilated

Slowly you moved
Towards me with
A keen hunters eye

From the floor you
Leaped onto my chest
Curling into a cozy circle

You looked up at me
With sleepy squinted eyes
And a yawn razor sharp

I felt the weight of
Your soft body relax
As if you made it home

My tears were then
Instantly healed from
The savory sound of your purr

There has always been
Instant ramifications held
Over me for expressing
Some of the sorrow I have felt

From the moment I began
Listening to and loving myself
I was engineered to abstain
From speaking my opinions too loud

I was finally conditioned to
Keep my mouth stapled shut
As to not face the accusations
Of how I navigate these thoughts

Now I hardly know what to do or say
Doubt laced words and actions
Living in constant inescapable fear
Of all the possible repercussions

Please tell me who you want me to be
So I'm no longer held responsible
For whatever consequences are created
Based on what you think is acceptable

Misery is a ****
To be severed at the stem
Yellow dandelions reach
And scream they are medicine

My garden blooms
With rage and thunderstorms
Dark clouds rain heavy
Soil crowded by wild onions

The lilies stretch
And shout for some light
In a war with the sunflowers
Who only bear fruit at night

I tell the begonias
To have a little faith
Not compete with the tulips
We all find beauty along the way

I speak mostly love into
My honest little garden
Pulling at weeds who's roots run deep
The main event of the harvest

Without weathering the storms
Sprouting innocent dandelion leaves
Little room would be left for growth
And dreams would remain rootless seeds

I only notice everything I am not
The lesser self
The body that rots

I've come to despise the person I am
The hollow existence
The mind that rants

I succumb to this shell that I have become
The tunneled vision
The nothing expands

Little planetary girl
Made of metal from the air
Watches poison quietly float
To the ground where she walks barefoot

Loud steel factory town
Home to the most beautiful sunsets around
Over a river and a chain of rocks
A city separated by polluted blocks

Bright green wide-eyed dreamer
A mind that only sees the future
Skyscrapers kissing stars in the distance
Visions of a different life between cigarettes

Change is only a bridge away
Fifteen miles to a boarding airplane
Hallucinations soaked in sulfuric stench
Screeching trains clog all the exits

Jaded little starlit girl
Behind the Arch awaits the whole world
Don't let home become another bad habit
The city is calling from behind the granite