The trees quiver in the cool winter winds,
Dancing silhouettes soaking in the rain

Analysis, analysis, paralysis, I will be the end of us
Incessant thoughts swirl through my mind. I cannot
Control their poison spreading through my veins,
To my nerve endings, shattering all illusions of control

We were birds soaring in the sunlit sky
Majestic, wings flutter and stabilize
Blinded by the sun, unaware
Of the details
High with adrenaline, on illusion

We are birds, shying away from the gray
Gloom of the winter sky when it is
About to rain.

the days you have yet to claim

and the praise you swallow or let rain,

depending on the level of blush and locked knee,

or if you ran, or had room to.

do you pick it apart?

keep the pieces?

August 2, 2017

His beautiful field that lay before my eyes
Made up of many ties
Red ribbons being tied to many roses
The sea of pastel roses that Eve chose
As it will never decompose
The roses will bloom forever
Which puts me in admiration in how it’s wonderfully clever
Because despite them having thorns that harm me, it’s what also brings out their beauty
It’s what also makes the garden smell strangely fruity…
Each rose had a purpose as they were not picked at random
They are being strongly protected by the hands of Adam
But my fate turns its head around
And what a sight I see as my eyes take a pound
A field of darkness...something like an empty void
It’s something I always tried to avoid
Because that field unfortunately is actually mine
I believe there is no more time
All of the beauty of the Garden of Wisdom has withered
My garden looks like it just went through a blizzard
Filled with disappointments, I left the two fields with a sad sigh
I guess there could be more than what meets the eye
Oh how cruel my reality is compared to His, how cruel can my reality be?
One more day, is what I tell myself with hope that I can now finally live a lively life...but honestly... when can I be free?

long hair cut short.
apology after apology.
jackets often worn,
if not, sweaters or
long-sleeved tops.
anti-social,
not because
i hate people,
but i fear they hate me.
isolation in my bed,
sometimes,
panic attacks
in the bathroom.
constant overthinking,
whether 3 am or 3 pm.
scribbles thoughts
into poems,
but hides them.
pushes away,
even though i want
to pull them closer.