Acrimonious ******; oh, to such a wanted piece of thought, falling carelessly as a leaf blown in a sceptical kind of winds, and with their goal of rattling me. The present fortunes present themselves as a mystery unsolved, the many spasms in a day, constricted by the extravagance of wanting to be heard; but the audience is so uninvolved

As I sometimes misplace my identity in my own words- as when I misplace worries into the formula of my concerns. The lessor faith in words, frames on the highest platform; in the endless echoes of a writer’s afterlife- where their once idolized muses, are blessed enough to be seen as something appreciated as gods- a Poetic pantheon

Creativity is like two gloved hands, that choke out the reader’s eyes,
suffocating them to see new found knowledge, in the loss of consciousness. As the stage is set; upon the tears of the world, being the opening curtains to such an encore performance; an audience made up of eyes hungry for more. The author’s responsibility to provide to them all,
a due course of sustainable food for thought. As the world feeds the writer the vilest of things, to in turn create something ameliorates in place of it.

I don't see how it could get better.
But I don't see how it could be worse either.
Am I trying too hard or not enough?
What if it's both?
What if all the answers
are in the space between?
We always say there's 2 sides to every story. What if the truth is in the middle?

If the road to hell really is paved
with good intentions,
we all work on the railroad at some point.
But if the stairway to heaven is only revealed when good intentions evolve into good deeds, does that mean we all go to hell?

If we experience death
While we're alive,
Could we experience life
When we're dead?

a vigilante stepped to me
and said, “i’m on
a terrorist watch list.”
I trusted what he said was true.
i made him up.
he’s in a cult
that brainwashes people
to think for themselves.
he also gave me seeds,
enough to share.

Just because the world changes
Every day, hour, minute, and second,
Doesn't mean you have to.
But, then again,
Maybe that's exactly why you should.

Sometimes, life is good.
And sometimes, it's bad.
Sometimes, life can even seem cruel.
But it can also be special.
Like when you become a mom or dad.
Now that we've talked about
What life is sometimes,
Let's talk about what it is all the time.
When it comes down to it,
Life is life.

In life the only thing you can do is just wait...
Rather if your waiting for your next relationship , friendship , or a job you name it.
We wait because after those two steps you don't want to regret the mistakes that will be created.  freemindedlee_

"What are you doing
to better the world?
What value do you bring to society?"
"Those are not the right questions."
"Why not?
They're questions everyone asks."
"Maybe so. But they're meaningless if you can't answer another one first."
"Which is?"
"The right question is "what are you doing to better yourself?"
If you can't find value in yourself, if you don't think you're the best you can be, you can't be ready to better the world.

It was a dark and stormy night
when an angel of death took flight.
She took to the skies and followed the thunder
to the one who would begin their eternal slumber.
The man who would soon receive such a fate
denied the love of someone great.
He told her she was ugly and didn't have time
to give his love to someone who wasn't divine.
Then what happened next
devastated her parents when they read her text.
He had no remorse when he was given the news.
So the angel of death made him pay his dues.
People take things for granted.
That's to be expected.
But professing love is not an act that deserves being disrespected.
If we took the time to think about all of the outcomes
of our choices, the world might not lose so many beautiful voices.