It seems most poets are inspired by nature
I'm mostly inspired by the nature of me
It is commonly sadness and anger
that fuel my poetry

summer rain comes again
with the pained cry of someone
who isn't quite me.
summer rain comes again
where white meets gray
and lies are true.

static love
isn't love at all.
and i'm not sure
if i could trust you
if i were to fall.

with a single touch
the flowers beneath my skin
unearth and uproot.
with a single cut
i can easily erase
each and every mistake
that i've ever made.

You need so much
I don't have it to give
I'm not sure if I can feel anymore nevermind live
Part of me worries that I'm dead
or at least the most important part of me is
You deserve so much
Yet I have nothing to give

Winds were turning, the sun was burning
Some were earning, some were learning

Despite same age, not on same page
Circus and its cage, work and its wage

Before days were salad, life was ballad
Now scant is jealous, fulfilled is callous

Some were putting stamps, some were avoiding lamps
Anxiety became swamps, solitude became camps

Devoid of the vision, dreams in the prison
Blames and reason, grudges every season

Fast as well as furious, adrenaline was curious
Shifting next and previous, life was oblivious

Downers were prevailing, attempts were failing
But refuge against despairing, refute against ailing

Dive deep into sea, nothing will come free
Don't cry, make tea,from sapling to tree

Sweat is often sweet, let's find our feet
Time is dead heat, smile and compete

From morning to night, between joy and plight
Better fight than flight, journey will be alright

I don't like my skin today
It doesn't fit me right
It's loose in the wrong places
Where I need room, it's too tight
The color doesn't match my mood
I don't appear slate gray
I think I might go back to bed
I hate my skin today

i keep on thinking of words—
to unite, to collide;
but in everything that i do,
memories of you and i,
sweep me off of my feet—
with such delight.