As time gets older,
Things change and adapts.
It's no need to change yourself.

I'm a streak of amber,
on a canvas splashed in gold,
waiting to be noticed, to be loved,
before I fade away with time,

You twinkle when you're being you.
Be unique and different it will be a great view.
Don't start your day without your smile,
Because wearing it is like having your own style.

I feel pretty and soft,
Like a jasmine flower
Blooming with fragrant power,
Feminine and unique,
No two alike in pale white and pink,
Harnessing, absorbing
Sweet summer light,
The rich scent of jasmine
Carried aright,
Weightless and pungent,
Expressively existing.
I feel pretty and soft,
My presence caressing and kissing.

The Game...
          It involves trust
                              honesty
                                       loyalty
Enter your name...
          Not a nickname
                              not a fake name
                                        it will break honesty
You have a team...
          You have a leader
                              the aim is to **** them
                                        - But are you loyal?
Teamwork...
          Teamwork is the key
                              The killer wins the game
                                        - But are you a traitor?
The Rules...
          - You must show trust
                              - You must be honest
                                        - You must be loyal
Breaking The Rules...
          - You will be sentenced to death

Welcome to the game...!

Ah, what a sight to see!
With the bright sun in the distance
Chirps of the bugs and bees
To forget the reason for our distance

A walk to end all walks
Till I see the dawn wake
As I reminisce that box
That always made you quake

Longing to dream as you could dream
Not to remember and a night to forget
To forget that pitched scream
And the tumble of your chess set

All I can do is wait for my day
And continue to live carefree
Walking into the next Friday
Living in a shattered reality

“Bountiful
            Beauty”
broken
         beaten
burnt
         by
badly
          behaved
  boys
           bearing
  burly
               bodies
brusquely
                  built
             by
                “Boisterous  
      Benevolence”.

I love poetry
I love reading poetry
And the more I read the more I see the same themes
The same thoughts
The same feels...
And for a brief moment of weakness I feel like a fraud
Is it for naught
If we're all saying the same things?
Using the same bowl of words and rearranging them with different cadence and meter?
Then almost immediately I see the beauty.
I see the human experience.
And how we're all the same.
Acting and reacting within the scope of only so many emotions
My poem doesnt have to be the first to say it
I write it as a humble entry to this shared thought.
My signature in agreement.
Added proof that all these meticulously organized words have been offered earnestly and painted beautifully for all our sakes

I'm  missing some stiches,  
                         flawed genetic patterns