"There's a power in music!"
Right on,
We all know,
The power of song.

Blank canvas,
A bucket of paint,
I took that bucket,
And I chucked it.
Green blues until,
I had a landscape of Nantucket.
I threw the paint,
And just said '---- --'

My mind is an enemy of mine,
Filling my head with worrisome thoughts.
'Are you alright?'
hm
I guess I'm not,
It feels a little normal by now,
Where'd my trust go?

If I lived in the Song dynasty,
I could be a leader in government,
All their leaders had to be able to write poetry.

Why are we different?
Because you are a brittle block of rotting wood,
And I am an immortal diamond within obsidian sand.
When angered, you will raise your hand,
But don't you dare raise it to me,
For I will stand like statue, your blow caught in my palm.

If I were to read these,
To my chorus teacher,
She would beg for more emotion,
In my pronouncing of every line.
If I were to read this to my math teacher,
He would find in it no sense,
Art is a subjective understanding.

How would you now,
If you're favorite line in a poem,
Was nothing but a tiepo,
Your favorite writer forgo to catch,
Maybe I'm a typo to,
Just a random squigigle on the page,
A little piece of see glass in the waves.

Why do I stay on the bright side?
Because I fear the dark,
Knowing what it brings,
I find no peace in it.