Hvis bedre,
er en mulighed,
er godt,
ikke **godt nok

There is something to be learnt from
the trees that let go
Of autumn leaves so silently: no grudges, no scorn
It is nature's way of telling
Parting is the price we all have to pay for love.

There is something to be learnt from
The leaves that hit the ground
After being held so high
It Is nature's way of telling us
It has never been about the fall
But how gracefully we do it

There is something to be learnt from
The empty sky at twilight
How it bleeds every time the sun leaves
Yet it tries to find solace in those thousand little suns
There is always something to be grateful about.

I have always been
a good test taker
who can follow rules
that only apply
in timed intervals
that occur in rooms
with too-bright lights
and recycled air
that isn't circulating
around the heads of students
that, under normal conditions,
would radiate heat,
but now only emit stress

I have always been
good at rolling my eyes
(in all situations)
but particularly to those
who work themselves up
over means of evaluation
that, while they are determinant
of subsequent events,
do not measure your worth,
value,
or abilities in all areas

I have always been
poor at reminding myself
of these skills
when the tests I take
don't place me
in the same category
in which
I have always been

I walk with ambitious expectations
My head filled with slow frustration
Air around me is radiation
clouding in my lungs

My heart beats like
a steady train
Slow but heavy,
polluting my brain
Everyone around me is evil, or am
I just mad?

Stop looking, stop thinking.
Stop all the foolish
queries.
Doubt and hope and
endless confusion
weighing me down
as I quiver with fear.

I can't, I have to,
I will.

Outside I can breathe,
on my own,
when the bats and
the flies no longer surround
me.
Fresh air so
smooth and clean,
Inside there it's
clouded and thick.
Now I am a bird,
though my wings
will not lift.

The rain starts
to pour but I
cannot shift.
I try and I try but
my bones are too
weak, hollow,
compressed
and my eyesight's
turned bleak.

I realize suddenly,
in all my fear,
that behind me
was my future,
all I hold dear.
Water is rising,
my lungs start
to fill.
I'm no longer
a bird,
but a flower.
No power.
No will.