I want to save this Princess from Zimbabwe --
because she tells me it is my destiny,
and it is all in the email she sent me.

I want to save this Princess from Zimbabwe --
because she possesses many Riches,
and she has promised me all of them.

I want to save this Princess from Zimbabwe --
from her wretched uncle,
who will steal her wealth and lock her away.

I would save this Princess from Zimbabwe --
but she only needs my Government ID,
Bank Account and Social Security.

I am just a phase
A temporary object in people's lives
I am option
No one's priority
If I'm that easily thrown away
why do I even exist

The old habits set in
like the moss on stones,
clinging to my brain.
                                    Waiting to inhale my
                                     remaining soul that I
                                     grew last summer.

Time comes for us all, for all in fact
With no remorse, with no warning
The master of the whole

Which causes the strongest to bow, the hardest to break
While the itself keeps it's pace, at no expense, regardless

Wait and you will see they say
But time can be so cruel that when comes the moment it took you your sight also.

Yes, time is dependable, but don't count in it, for it can be slow when you most need it,
And most swift when you less expect it.

When you have it, is by mere irony.
When you lack it is by pure mockery.

That's time. Most people don't even see it going by.
Time gives, time takes away…

on a heavy morning,
the birds sang
conjunctionally,

a faint sunlight
dodged the mass
highlighting
an old oak tree

an impending rain
was booed,
or maybe
cheered,
or preached,

the first drops,
the last wingbeats,
and,
in the old oak tree
a bird sang,
alone

he called,
he waited,
he knew

Thinking about getting a tattoo
But, I take pause...
Looking in the mirror
I see my body’s already covered
Marked in invisible ink
Every inch of my bare skin
Painted with the joy and pain of living
From my heart to my hips
Color faded here, but poppin’ over there
Memories designed by your hands
Others etched on my own
A collection that makes me smile
Among a few pieces I regret
So, about getting a tattoo...
I guess I’m not ready
Because I can’t think of a tattoo
Meaningful enough, yet
To write over any of the life I’ve lived

Can you relate with that feeling

When you are dying underneath that burden

When you call for help but none is forthcoming

When the friends you trusted turned their back at you

When your heart is in so much pain and ache

When you find it hard to even cry or wail

Because everyone has deserted you, including your tears.