The **** does it really?
The **** does it all mean?
To caren’t oh so freely,
To not aim to read in between.

The **** is this monstrosity?
The **** does this represent?
This self-aware precocity,
Diving and thriving in its own lament.

Possessions stemmed from possessiveness,
Losses that led to lenience,  
No ***** to give and not a **** to lose,
Too many have come and went.

The **** does it matter, truly?
The **** should it matter to me?
These thinking caps are on too tight,
I’ll embrace this coldness cruelly.

Not to say that I am so daft,
This emulation of me is unflattering,
I’ve come to love this newfound craft,
The ***** become irrelevant when they stop mattering.

Do you know me?
Do I know you?
What secrets do you embrace?

I have my pleasures,
My little treasures.
I wonder if I am the only one?

They're not to be hidden,
Nor are they forbidden.
They're just mine. My secrets.

For example,
Do you like to dance crazily with music loud?
Do you do art, paint, draw, create?
Do you go for a walk late at night?
Do you sit in your room and contemplate?
Or do you think about who would win, superman or batman?
Do you feel sad? Do you feel happy? Do you have a secret anger that burns you?
Or are people as plain as they look upfront?
What is it that you do that you hold dear, near and out of fear you keep inside?

I wonder. Am I the only one with secrets that no-one knows?
Why do I hold them so close? To make them feel like mine.
What am I afraid of, That if someone knew my secrets, they would no longer be secret?
Why does this make it feel special? If no-one knows about them?
If they were known, it would no longer be enjoyable.
Is it for the lack of judgement that I tell no soul I know?
Or is it to keep it mine and by sharing it, it is no longer mine to share?
Is it my secret and do you have any you want to contribute?
Then it will be our secret.

At times I wish I didn't care
and didn't feel anything too deep
but if i refused to care at all
I wouldn't be here, I wouldn’t be me.

Many things I see, I find pre-defined
A darkness is left, the kids aren’t alright
Yet within the chaos, the shot of hope gleams
A chance for redemption, before the final dream.

My love unveils both joy and sorrow
A kaleidoscope of emotions for today and tomorrow
Even in depths of despair, resilience rises
Shadows and trials end with silver-lined surprises.

To feel deeply is my way to truly live
A tapestry weaves the stories I have to give
For even in shadows, my light does grow
My heart guides me to what the truth knows.

So I seek to embrace the highs and lows
Through my rivers of tears, a garden grows
In vulnerability, I find a reality
Worthy of bonding with all humanity.

You are burdened
By time,
Your presence is unknown.
But what matters,
My lover,
Is how you grow.

Don’t fret,
Or try to forget
Of a time felt alone.

Be still,
My lover,
For a heartache is known.

But time ,
By your side,
Will guide your way home.

There are no limitations. You
Receive help that
You never accepted.
It now encircles you.
By an outstretched hand.
No one bites it off.
Acceptance received.

The sun directly investigates
Any unwillingness
To not accept change. Bringing a pinch of new light.

Who would you have to be
Stepping into the
Other side?
Finding you are truly good enough.
That any other connection
From limiting beliefs
Unravels, like opening a pomegranate. One seed thinks it's all alone,
not seeing all the others encased in their own restrictions.
What if it were the perfect time? The full ripe fruit.

You are the right age! This is the perfect time!

What if the opposite were true?
What would you do? Even if a part of you did not believe it?

Bathe hence your confining insistences.
What is in your skyline? Your oceans horizon?
Supplied with new resources, a deliberate inventory, of unrestricted beliefs, if the opposite were true?
Then who would you have to be
To make it unmistakable?
Who would I want to be
If the opposite were true? Now, only now, as a matter of time.

An unrequited love
Is a drought.

That seeks the comfort
Of the sun

Dear comet turned thief
Run. I feel no grief

I’m the rib that won’t break
I’m the light the moon fakes

I’m the drought
That forgot she was the sun

life is unpredictable in its fickle nature,

moments can transform into a lifetime of shared splendor or somber recollection,

healing isn’t linear nor is life’s trajectory as we tread this path scattered with trials and tribulations,

time challenges our wit and forces our hand at resilience as we build ourselves countlessly to brace the changes that come our way,

that is the beauty of existing— understanding the significance of loss and relishing the triumph of union,

savoring the essence within us and radiating faith amid our silent prayers,

healing isn’t linear, nor is life’s trajectory as we are riddled with fates that at times make us question our purpose in retrospect to the everyday,

this breath is but a gift of chance for us to continue walking mindfully with the beauty that surrounds us,

you are but a flower in the garden of tomorrow; blossom endlessly.

I break my pattern
and reduce the restriction
of obsessive attention
to a particular
schedule or behavior,
because if I want to
I can do it now or later,
take the time to savor
the flavor of the moment
because I own it
and not the other way around.

This type of freedom is profound,
and easy to achieve
even though it frequently eludes.
Obsessions frequently intrude rudely
and take more time than
I care to admit to.

The world may be
very close to ending
or not,
but my life is all
that I really got,
so I will greedily
hoard my individuality
and liberty to see and perceive
that strings that seem to direct me
and sever them immediately.