talking is bright and hurts my eyes

loud and a piercing white

the sound of water hitting a palm

a pen scratching out words



the touch of the world spinning on my finger

why aren't they all falling down?



the colors are all starting to fade

the walls are forcing themselves in



the pressure can't do anything

at least, that's what i tell myself

the mouse started off like any ordinary mouse

annoying, small, and persistent.

the nymph tried to take good care of him, and he was treasured to her.

the mouse came limping back to her, after his daily battle with the world

she nursed him back to health

as the nymph cared more for the little mouse, she spurted out pellets of blood and flowers

the mouse tried to stop her

but it was too late.

You can't always be a light.
Sometimes you need to be a mirror,
And reflect someone else's glow

An artist paints with his hand
While a poet writes with his heart.
An artist's brush lures your eyes
My poem revives your days.
The poet's heart is an ocean
Full of love and emotion.