Sometimes, with a roll of the dice
A child receives a blessing that comes with a price
They can be born with the blessing of being smart
Yet in society, they'll always be apart
Who would've known that a bigger or stronger brain
Can make people think you're entirely insane
If you do one thing well in your prime
Then you'll be stuck doing that till the end of time
And if you ever try to quit
Why would you? You're good at it
There's so much pressure on you
That there's nothing you can look forward to
And if you get just one thing incorrect
There's something in your brain that needs to be checked
People will look up to you, but you're up there alone
Sitting down on your worthless diamond throne
And if you aren't better than only some
You're immediately characterized as dumb
Would you really want to feel so apart
Just so you could be a bit more smart?

I wish I was silent.
Your words wouldn't be so violent
I'll stop seeing red, but a pastel violet
I just wish that I was quiet

I wish I wasn't so loud.
Maybe then you'd be proud
My words wouldn't draw a crowd
If I wished I didn't speak out loud

I wish I didn't always overshare
Spilling embarrassing secrets just so you'd care
So maybe one day I'll finally be aware
And I wish I didn't have to feel this despair

I just wish I wasn't ignored
But I didn't want myself to just be stored
And so that's when I poured and poured
I just wish I could get my reward.

I wish my mouth was sewn shut.
I could walk normally, instead of strut
Thanks for all your punches in the gut
I just wish I stopped talking, and so what?

If I was someone else, you would've loved me
That's what you told me this morning
And it's my fault we couldn't be
And I fell for you without warning
You said you'd want me
That's all I crave for now
My bad I couldn't see
I was blinded by you somehow
So maybe if I was born before you
My heart wouldn't break
No one will love you as much as I do
How much more can I take?

You’ll fall out of love
When you notice my flaws
And one day you’ll wonder
How you ever loved me at all

I am a poem in motion, in itself-
I strike an empty canvas; drawing out inspiration from
the library of experiences sitting on a majestic shelf,
“what picture shall I craft,” to showcase an unheard story,
an unsung song- “and what lines shall I once again cross”

Poetry has no bounds;- its never short of words,
its expression is wild; tamed by the artist’s pen- my sword
to fight against the marching violence in my mind.
My words- are all a part of me; they separate me from the
entire world, as I watch everything unfold into the paper
where I write down my thoughts.

[the poet-
is an outsider; a broken writer, who gets his fix from
his literature art. It’s an addiction, and a cure to my everything-
yet it’s still nothing. It is here, it is there, it is everywhere; still
it comes from nowhere.

[a poem-
are her words tender, but also so raw. They are the length of her
elegant body, they are short of breath- she is my answer, she is
my many questions, she’s a truth made out of my lies. She is
everything to my nothing

No poem is a mistake; every poem is perfect-
written by imperfect people.

The moon did me a favor today

It didn't drag me down.

It made me look up.

Where else is future found?

Besides our
Hearts and Minds.

In the sky where you will find Birds.

And wings
With golden strings

Threading

An imperfect map.

I'm still looking up.

like pieces of a jigsaw
their faces were joined
interlocked in places
overlapping at others
like Picasso himself
had painted them
with linocut or oils
an imperfect portrait
harmoniously
                  asymmetrical
created by these two
fragmented profiles
lips interdependent
remaining in want
fulfilled for a moment
in this "their moment"
a cubist vision of beauty
not in appearance
or form necessarily
but in what it shows