The voice that’s rarely heard,
Not outspoken,
Or outgoing enough.
The one who watches the clock,
To see the seconds turn to minutes,
To hours, to days,
Before you know it a year’s gone by.

I have a few things to get off my chest,
Perhaps it would be best.

There are people whose voice is loud,
You can tell them out of the crowd.
Some commanding, others obnoxious,
Others are demanding, and some are boisterous.
I never understood the appeal.
But if one thing is clear,
It’s that they’re confident,
For better or worse,
I just hope they aren’t full of themselves.
As per most things,
Advantageous in moderation.
Too much noise can drive one insane.
But there are highlights too,
Most leaders tend to be loud,
And I think they should.

Then there are people like me,
Quiet, but not dead silent.
Some call us mysteries,
Others find an opportunity to batter someone,
Who they know won’t talk back.
The quiet ones can be seen as arrogant,
Some think we say we’re better in every way,
Far from the truth.
Most of the time when I’m quiet,
It’s because I have nothing to say.
Or I have but I don’t think it’s important.
Don’t understand,
How some say whatever crosses their minds.
Mine bounces off the walls,
Filled with dashing, flashing thoughts.
“Are they judging me?”
“Do they even care at all?”
“What are they thinking about?”
“Am I making a fool of myself?”
“Can I connect with anyone else?”
These thoughts and more,
Rattle on despite no encore.

Apathy’s a dangerous thing,
Not caring or feeling anything.
Sometimes that’s why I don’t speak.
Wandering,
In endless wondering…
Wanderlust,
But where to go?

While most, state their opinions aloud.
I don’t.
Why risk the chance of mockery,
If you don’t have to?
People can be cruel,
Crueler than they realize,
At the time.
I keep my opinions in my head,
Where they fit best.

Sometimes I wonder:
Do people think about what they say,
Before they say it?
Sometimes it feels like,
They just preach what’s on their mind,
Without a thought behind their eyes.
They want to be seen,
To shine,
They want to be heard,
In the Broadway spotlights.
And those two desires,
Trump mostly everything else,
And add fuel to their fire,
Causing them to burn even brighter.

I take my thoughts,
To the page,
Where it’s quiet,
And all my thoughts can flow freely,
Without any pesky blockages.
How freeing,
Yet, how fleeting.

I’ve said what I wanted to say.
Shouted as loud as I could,
Through the noisy maelstrom.
I hope you heard,
What this silent voice had,
Bouncing in his brain…

A life to others that may seem like fiction,
My own story ‘the great contradiction!’
I’m full up yet empty at the same time.
I’m treading water yet towing the line.
A soul full of tears and a smile on my face.
Time’s dragging by at an incredible pace.
I know where I am yet I’m totally lost.
All that is free comes with such cost.
I’m straight as a dye yet can’t unwind.
I know where it is yet unable to find.
When I let go,I hold on tight.
Getting it wrong when I’m doing it right!
Looking for answers,I already hold.
Blowing hot when I’m feeling cold.
When everyone’s here,I’m all alone.
Finding I’m reaping what others have sown
So there you have it ,the contradiction that’s me.
Adding more chains when i try to break free!

It's a slip really,
But nonetheless,
It's a mistake,
The world works like that apparently.

It's the way she looks at me,
It has me hesitating,
I know I want her,
And yet I'm scared to hurt her.

Love has a way,
Of being painfully sweet sometimes,
Like a melody,
Carrying nostalgia.

It's a situation,
We both brought to ourselves,
She knew what she was doing,
And so did I.

It's the way,
She finds herself in my mind,
Even when,
I'm trying to forget about her.

In this situation,
I'm in love with her,
I want to hold her close,
I don't want her slipping away.

I want her feeling the same,
And yet I can't tell,
She's good at giving me a hard time,
She's good at confusing my mind.

She snack in,
I let her through,
Inadvertently,
Into my safe spot.

Not sure she knows that,
Not sure I want her too,
I just want her around,
I want to spend time with her.

I'm in a situation,
My mind's in conflict,
It's her again,
She wants to come in.

The doors open,
For her,
It always is,
At anytime.

I'm in a bind,
I want all of her,
I want all her moments,
But I'm not sure she wants the same.
By:Jn

Four distinct seasons,
Each with their own beauty,
Ambiance, weather, and color,
All for us to enjoy.

I must admit,
Winter’s my favorite.
I like feeling cold,
Not freezing cold,
But cold enough so that when you encompass yourself with blankets,
You feel the comforting warmth of home.
I love the look of the planet,
Underneath a blanket of snow,
The smoothness of the white,
Prettier at night.
The snow as it falls,
Gorgeous as well,
Everywhere you look,
A painting could be painted,
And the beauty would be upheld.
Snowmen on the lawns,
The festive season,
What’s not to love?
Hot chocolate by a fire,
Tales of reindeer flying high in the sky,
All these reasons are why,
Winter’s my favorite.

Followed close behind in both timing and rank,
Springtime.
The weather looks nicer,
The flowers bloom once more,
The rain may seem inconvenient,
But it’s something to be thankful for.
The pitter-patter on my window at night,
Makes me feel,
For a moment,
That everything’s alright.
Don’t forget the flowers,
Of many shades of colors,
How I look forward,
To when the Indian Paintbrushes grow.
Sunflowers,
Irises,
Roses,
Daisies,
And all the others,
Makes the season more special,
Nature’s a wondrous thing.

Now comes the one I least adore,
But still, I know,
It has its strengths.
Summertime,
Is my least favorite.
I’ve never liked the heat,
Especially when it exceeds a hundred degrees,
That’s a bit excessive to me.
It’s the time,
To hit the beach,
To be at peace,
I can practically hear the waves.
Vacations typically wait till this time of year.
Fireworks,
In America,
The booms,
Something to behold.
The weather,
While not ideal for me,
Is still wondrous to see.
Maybe in my later years,
I’ll appreciate the beauty of summer.

Last but not least,
Fall or autumn is third on the list.
Things cool down,
Leaves fall down,
From their trees.
Reds,
Oranges,
Yellows,
And browns,
Litter the grown,
Entrancing the eyes.
They’re something to see,
But not worth to speed.
The crunch beneath your feet,
The air blows deep through the trees.
Halloween,
And the Thanksgiving feast.
Bliss at the finest degree.



The Earth isn’t the only thing,
That goes through seasons,
Life does the same.
Some seasons are dark,
Without a light in sight,
But it’s there,
It’s always there.
Other seasons a filled with joy,
Take those in,
Enjoy the moment,
Because for better or worse,
Like the seasons of the Earth,
It always comes to pass.

I poured champagne on the garden,
just to see what wouldn’t grow.
A rebellion disguised as art,
too small to leave a bruise.

The idea felt poetic—
a confession spilled like incense,
settling heavy in the soil,
thicker than regret.

By dusk, the dirt turned sticky,
a graveyard for good intentions,
gold on a barren altar,
pearls drowning in sweetness turned sour.

A bee circled the spill,
its wings trembling,
caught between greed and retreat.

I wanted to tell it, Save yourself.
But even the flowers had given up,
their petals folded like apologies
too late to matter.

I stood barefoot in the dirt,
watching bubbles rise slick
against the roots of something already dying.

At least the garden refused me honestly—
its silence more forgiving
than any answer you gave me.

I laughed at how pathetic it felt—
a toast to nothing,
a promise unraveling,
luxury offered to the lifeless.

I’ll wake up tomorrow
and call it nothing,
but the smell of champagne
will linger on my palms.

And you’ll linger, too,
where regret always does—
settled deep in the soil,
refusing to grow.

when the nights grow longer
and the days grow darker,
and the only light is the one
that can be switched off anytime,
you force yourself to wake up,
you force yourself to eat,
you force yourself to try
just a little harder,
and when you need to sleep
you have to force yourself,
ironically enough,
not to think
about the looming danger,
about the trembling hands,
about every test you couldn't pass,
about how the nights are longer
and how the days are darker,
and the only light you've got
is the one inside your heart.

When did it all get turned upside down?
I really shouldn't be here
Will I ever live this down?
Couldn't you’ve just imagined me here?

It was years ago
and I should have known
I remember you
I was sixteen years old... however many years ago
I think I should remember, too

You're on the back of my mind,
and then you're on my neck
Is all we lost
truly behind us?

It was years ago,
you left me in the cold,
but I remember you
I was sixteen years old,
and yet I should have known
Will I ever remember, too?

If you're my hero
why did you let me down?
You really shouldn't be here
If you're my hero
why was I on the ground?
You got what you wanted

You’re on the back of my mind
when they’re on my neck
All of this because
of a broken, silent promise