they ordered to tell a poetry
about tat beauty
who would come
i prepared and reminded

but i didn't tell
because the raw of poets
were so long

i sat out
i forgot the time
one sat beside

i looked toward
she said awful poet

all wanted me to admire
the love is emperor

it would be the governor
of every heart of lover

i laughed and took the poetry
i cut it it in small way

i said one word
if you were not admired

who could else be admired
i walked

no i ran
because, i was prison
by hers

Beauty is present but the soul isn't.
You speak with golden specks on your tongue.
You walk with the grace of doves.
Your laugh is like the morning sun.
But yet you still fall short where love doesn't manage.
You quiver to the thought of happiness and cringe at the sight of laughter.
They all scream
"you're a diamond in the rough."
But what is jelewry when it's not sought after and what is art when it's admired by all but one?
You're aware of the power you carry, the beauty you conceal.
The weapons your heart bares and the pain running through your veins.
They painted you a mural but they failed to read the description -
" commended by all, tamed by none."

There was a dear

She was wild

Lived in a jungle

The lions saw her

They believed they can eat

Her with one bite

And they can hurt

With their nail

The wolves saw her

Walking without fear

Showing her beauty

Walking with very happy

They thought they had her

So they all follow her

The foxes noticed her

She was walking there

They could catch her

So they all approach

When she looked at them

When they saw her face

When they gazed in her eyes

They all admired her

They all loved her

They followed her

They play with her

They admired her

Suddenly she had gone

They searched for her

They looked everywhere

Who saw the wild dear?

At the night the lion appeared

He called with high voice

Come ,come my dear

I invited you to be her

To stay with us

To amuse us

With your beauty face

I am the king of  that world

if you return indeed

Did she return ?

Did she appear?

In the back of my head
I know every conor I've
   Memorized each and
      Every curve I've  
           Calculated
            Precisely
        In the midst
     Of all the chaos
   I am only tuned to
  To the sound of her
  Feet lightly pressing
  Against the ground
   Each m o r n i ng i
    Count every ste p
     If I ever get to 10
     Maybe thn I will
     Open my mouth
      And empty the
        Way I feel of
          her beauty

I feel like a fraud
Because this image was built up around me
As if I am this thing to be admired

Now this was the doing of others
But I encouraged it
Because I was desperate to be different
To be special

The spotlight was on me, so I took it an ran
As if that one chance was a shift
And from that point on I was a breakout star

But one moment doesn't change a thing
And just as quickly as I was brought to the top
I have been knocked down

And I feel like a fraud
Because others had to work hard to earn
What was once handed to me

And the second I felt what they did
I cried and complained
Instead of learning to earn my place

Ivy.
It grows everywhere.
It can be poisonous,
or harmless.
Either way,
it's ivy.

I want to be like ivy.
A part of nature,
never to die.
But what use is nature,
when it sits and lies?
When it has no purpose,
other than to survive.
Isn't that the same as humanity?

Ivy is like humanity.
It grows around whatever it latches onto.
It adapts to it's environment.
It can be used,
and even admired.
It can also be hated,
and even decimated.

sturdy stem of throns
a fragile soul grow
strung like barbwire
withering very slow

soft to the touch
older day by day
no longer admired
perfume fading away

folding over in sorrow
petals they slowly fade
from the dying rose
losing beauty it has made

last petal crumbles
dusting Earth's floor
for the dying rose
happiness is no more