There once was an brave mushroom
Who happened to be named Clyde.

Clyde had a quaint little log
Inside which he did reside.

He had strong opinions on politics
Which created a bit of a divide.

Clyde never let this get to him
And to the haters, he exposed his backside.

It was for this outrageous action
That he became known worldwide.

Clyde used his new popularity
To speak out against mushroom genocide.

He attracted the attention of the revered Society of Toadstools
They, just like him, were rather dissatisfied.

Clyde and the Toadstools went to the king
Who told them his hands were tied.

The queen, angered by her husband’s apathy
Exclaimed that the killings were unjustified.

Clyde and the Toadstools stared in awe
As the queen strode away from his side.

“I have a solution for this,” she announced
“We shall rid the human murderers with cyanide!”

Clyde and the Toadstools, though frightened,
Still with her plan complied.

Inside the human structures they released the gas
Finally, with glee, watched as the humans died.

Clyde and all the other fungi spent the rest of their days in peace
And tales of their bravery that live on are not one bit glorified.

I do not want someone "brave enough"
to love me
to tear their way through my heart
to leave the wreckage they pass through
worse than before

I want someone soft
to take their time
to notice me in the corner
to silently help me tidy up

to tuck me in bed next to them
with nothing but a "good job" and my kiss
on their lips

Conversations are like hikes in the realm of thought.

Multiple people traversing ideas, concepts, memories, emotions. Together.

Once the conversation ends, it’s like a completed hike, a route you can re-trek, go back to explore even further.

Like a tracing of a route on a map, the conversation is almost like a work of art. A map of the world of thought created and experienced in-between those conversing.

Some conversations, like hikes, are scattered, going all over, making many detours.

Others are a nice straight path, easy to follow.

Other conversations can take many interesting turns, detours, and leave you somewhere totally unexpected.

Some are like climbing a mountain, difficult to follow the trails, requiring great effort, but the view from the top is extraordinary.

look at the starlight
as it shines on the shore
look at my melody
I can't do this anymore

look at the sun
look at the rain
since I am silent
you can't see my pain

there are many things
worth singing for
step out of the darkness
step out the door