.
Others call it singing,
I call it just talking with style.
A cup half full or half empty?
Sometimes,
the glass is twice as big as it needs to be.

Soft colors
gentle warmth
the sun's caress
words spoken with a smile
we open our doors
to the sound of laughter
And a song drifts on the wind

is suicide really just killing yourself
or beating god,
at his own game

she's as mysterious as a faceless murmur,
like a goldfish in the pond, hiding amongst the fronds.
Am I desperately intrigued by you?
Am I trying to touch the fog?
Or are you the fog that will be nowhere to feign, when the sun will shine again?

You know the feeling of knowing something is near?
Oh it just fills me with fear
Fear of how things could go wrong
Like how a tone deaf person sings a song
Despite all the mental preparation
And all the friendly persuasion
You still make me scared
Without even knowing
I cared.